Safe
by SidSky
Summary: Khan has escaped, and kidnapped a member of the Enterprise crew. What Khan wants is clear: the return of what remains of his people, and revenge on Starfleet. What is the Federation willing to do to remain safe? Parts of this story get pretty dark. Warnings for violence; torture; manipulation.
1. Chapter 1

As is obvious, I do not own any of these characters. I'm just trying to have some fun and improve my writing. Please don't sue.

* * *

It is difficult to fathom how such an advanced people could be so foolish.

How could a species that has traveled the stars at unfathomable speeds; cured countless diseases; stopped their planet from succumbing to a changing climate; fought wars and made alliances with alien species; and created life-sustaining structures in the void of space where no one could survive before, leave only one lock and two guards to protect them against one of their most dangerous enemies?

Hubris. Nothing more.

Yet, as proud as these people were, they were also mortally afraid.

Fear is an astounding motivator. It builds walls. It kills. It makes people make cataclysmic decisions while crying "Safety!" Combined with hubris, fear can cannibalize an empire.

Which was why Khan was unsurprised, if somewhat disappointed in the human species, when he awoke once more in a Starfleet medbay. They seemed cautious enough at that point. He was restrained, and surrounded by guards.

They asked him many questions. The doctors asked about his health. How could he heal so rapidly? Could all Augments do what he can do? Khan was certain they knew those answers already, but were simply fascinated. He answered politely as the took samples of his blood.

The Starfleet admiral in charge of the facility asked about the Vengence. How long did Admiral Marcus force him to work on the torpedoes? Did Khan tell the Klingons about the ship or the weapons when he was on their homeworld? Khan answered as cryptically as he could.

The most interesting interrogator was an archaeologist. He asked about Khan's life before his exile. He answered him honestly. It was amusing to see the man's face turn green. Humans are capable of so much more than most of these self-righteous intellectuals are willing to do.

It was after the interrogation that their stupidity reached its peak. They took him to a cell. Not a force-field enclosed room where he could not touch the walls without pain, but a cage. The restraints were removed. They said it would be inhumane to leave them on.

They left him there. One door. One lock. Two guards.

There wasn't much blood. He could also be humane. Necks snap quietly enough to avoid alarms, and phasers cauterize as they kill.

He swept through facility like a spectre, and left nothing but death behind him before reaching the medbay. One of the doctors sounded the alarm. None of the doctors survived.

The admiral tried to ambush Khan as he turned a corner. The surprised look on the commander's face as a knife appeared in his chest was poetry.

The archaeologist tried to barricade his door. He failed. As the man cowered in the corner, begging for his life, Khan asked him three questions:

How long had he been asleep?

Where was his crew?

Where was the Enterprise?

The archaeologist thought the answers would save him. He was wrong.

They never should have woken him. Not once, and definitely not a second time. They would pay for their mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

There were many things James T. Kirk loved about space. Adventure. Exploration. Seeing nebulas form and studying black holes. Traveling with his best friends. Meeting species he'd never thought possible. Some of which were quite cute. Jim loved all of these things about space.

He did not love the paperwork.

Jim set aside the communique he was skimming. Somebody back home had decided it was time to make changes to their uniforms. Again. This time, they added zippers to the pants to help the crew cool off if they were on a planet much hotter than Earth. It was smart, but it meant Jim had to requisition new pants for over 400 people.

"At least I might get to see Spock wear shorts,"Jim chuckled.

After a quick stretch, Jim decided to take a stab at the day's log. It was an interesting one. He swiveled in his chair, opened the Log on his PADD, and tapped "record."

"Captain's Log. Stardate 2261.97," Jim sighed. "Our accidental encounter with the seafaring population of Amitrak VI has sent four of my science officers to the medbay. The Amitraks appear to be kind people. Which was fortunate for ensigns Fisher, Rowling, Maynard and Hinkley when a solar storm prevented us from beaming them out for two days. They were uninjured during the storm. However, as the team was leaving, the Amitraks gave them an aquatic plant. It was a kind gesture, but it apparently puffs hallucinogenic spores every four hours or so."

Jim leaned back in his chair with a grin. "To put it bluntly, they're all quite high. Doctor McCoy says the team will be fine, however he's getting tired of their giggling. Commander Spock has requested we revise our safety protocols for handling exotic vegetation. I think he has a point. In the meantime, I've asked Lieutenant Sulu to construct a case that can filter the spores. We can't keep it in a forcefield forever, and the plant is worth studying for...medicinal properties. I am working on a full report of the incident, however I will not be able to file it until Ensigns Fisher, Rowling, Maynard and Hinkley are capable of writing their reports."

"Everything else is running smoothly," Jim said. "Scotty and Keenser got that issue with the engines sorted out. A couple things were out of alignment. They're sending a detailed report. I'll leave the design headaches to the engineers back home. Our next stop is an asteroid that our sensors claim is housing some kind of silicon lifeform. We're hoping it's friendly. Kirk out."

Well, that didn't take as long as he'd hoped it would. Jim groaned and turned back to his communiques. A new one had popped up while he recorded his log. It was marked "URGENT."

"Well, that looks like a good place to start," Jim huffed.

The captain began to read, his small smirk fading. Starfleet Command was ordering them to a planet in an uninhabited solar system. The order didn't say why, but it did say they needed to head there immediately, which meant it couldn't possibly be anything good. Great.

A knock broke his focus. Jim looked up, and smiled. Bones was leaning against the door, looking like his good old grumpy self. Honestly, the man could look unhappy while watching the aftermath of Spock eating chocolate. Seriously. Jim had seen him do it. Although…that may have been because Jim hadn't told Spock that the dish contained chocolate, and Bones had actually been upset...Still, he could've at least cracked a smile when Spock tried to sing a duet with Uhura...

"Hey Bones," Jim said. "How's the away team?"

"Still trying to touch my face and eat the furniture," Bones grumbled. "The next time somebody beams up a strange plant without askin' first, you'd better beam them straight the hell back to where they found it."

Jim laughed. "You left Dr. M'Benga to deal with them, didn't you?

Bones smirked, "Well, it's the start of his shift. And I needed to ask you somethin' before I hit the hay."

Jim raised his eyebrow. "Oh? And what does my humble CMO need?"

"Don't be an ass," Bones shifted. "You know how we're coming up for shore leave soon, right?"

"Yeah," Jim grinned. "I'm thinking a sunny beach, massages, maybe meet some–"

"I'm thinking a farm colony in the Cerberus system," Bones interrupted. "You can drop me off and pick me up again on the way back from your paradise planet."

Jim was confused. "Why in god's name would you want to spend your vacation on a farm colony? Is there a medical conference or something?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Bones shook his head. "Joanna, my daughter. Her aunt and uncle transferred to Cerberus for work a few years back, and dragged her along. She's turnin' twelve in about a month, and I'd like to be there if I could."

Jim's eyes widened.

"Do you mean to tell me that I'm finally going to meet Mini Bones?" Jim blinked. "Wait. No. That sounds...Mini McCoy? No...Little Leonard! Agh! You're daughter. I'm finally going to meet your daughter?"

The doctor chuckled. "If you wanna come with, that's fine. But remember: you'd be sacrificing sunshine and bars for farm fields and chocolate cake."

The captain leaned back and kicked his legs up onto his desk. "Sounds like a fair trade. Especially if you let Spock eat the cake."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. Bring the Vulcan too. After a few days with the two of you around, Joanna will think I'm a saint."

Jim shrugged. "Hey, kids love me. And I intend to spoil this one rotten."

The doctor grimaced. "Please don't, Jim. I kinda need to be the one doing the spoilin' this time around...I haven't seen her in three years. Since before the whole crop thing..."

Jim's smile faded. "Right. Cerberus had that crop failure that...she was there for that..."

"Yeah," Bones nodded. "She was fine, thank god, but I couldn't get to her. We were dealing with...well...a lot happened two years ago."

Jim snorted at the understatement of the millenia. 2059 was a year that almost destroyed the Federation. Admiral Marcus' attempted war with the Klingons; Khan's terrorist attacks; Jim's own...temporary...death...The crop failure on Cerberus hadn't ranked in the Top Ten bad things to happen that year, but that didn't mean it hadn't been terrible for those who lived through it.

"So," Jim said. "When's the big day?"

"May 9th," Bones smirked. "Almost exactly eleven months from when we started this godforsaken mission."

"Alright," Jim sat up in his chair. "That settles it. I'll tell Starfleet that we've picked a time for our first shore leave. We should be able to make this thing work."

Bones' shoulders relaxed. Had the guy really thought Jim might say no?

"Thanks Jim," Bones said. "I really appreciate this."

Jim nodded. "No problem Bones. We simply can't deprive that child of her Uncle Jim, now can we?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "Just as long as she doesn't decide she likes you or the Vulcan more than me. Have a good night, Jim."

"Night Bones," Jim said, and turned back to his tasks as the doctor left. He had eight more assignments to get through before he could go to sleep. Sighing, the captain turned on his communicator.

"Mr. Chekov?"

"Aye, Captain?" Man, over the com, the kid still sounded so young.

Well, they all were young for officers. The destruction of the Federation fleet by Nero had pushed their careers ahead faster than anything anyone had seen before. And hopefully faster than anyone would ever see again…

Jim shook his head. Those thoughts didn't help anyone.

"I'm sending you some new coordinates," Jim tapped the numbers into his PADD. "Starfleet wants us to make a stop."

"Aye, Captain…" There was a pause, and then Chekov's cheery voice came back over the com. "It should take us about fourteen hours at warp."

"Sounds good Mr. Chekov," Jim said. "We'll get there just in time for lunch. Kirk out."

Jim flipped off the communicator and stared at his desk.

"One more down, seven to go," he mumbled.

Jim picked up his next assignment. It was time to put zippers on all their pants.


	3. Chapter 3

Hacking into a Federation computer does not take long, when one was trained by the best computer engineers Starfleet has to offer.

Khan shook his head in disgust. These people had given him the skills he needed to take them apart.

He had most likely stayed at the facility too long. The smell of death was starting to become unbearable, even for one as accustomed to it as Khan; and soon, someone would receive the emergency signal those doctors had sent out. If he could not find the information he needed by then, he might never find his people.

Trillions of lines of code streamed across the monitor in the facility's control room as the virus Khan created began its work. It would sift through the code for references to himself, Vengeance, the Botany Bay, the Enterprise, and all related code names for them that he could think of.

Khan turned his attention away from the monitors and towards the short-range portable transporter he had discovered in the admiral's office. It did not take long to reprogram it for transwarp beaming. A few more modifications made it untraceable. He would not make that mistake again.

That the admiralty was still insisting on using only rudimentary transporter technology when they had such a powerful technology in their archives was astonishing to him. A gift from the future should not be scorned so readily. Especially when it could have been used to end any potential conflict with the Klingons years ago. These "civilized" people and their hypocritical morality.

The monitors flashed. His virus had run its course.

Khan returned to the control panel and began sifting through the data. Khan smiled.

The archaeologist had not lied. Khan had been asleep for only two years. Fools.

His ship, the Botany Bay, was scuttled on an uninhabited moon in a place Starfleet was not supposed to have been traveling. According to the file, its life support systems had been deactivated, but not destroyed. If he could repair some of the Botany Bay's other systems and get his crew onboard, he could use the ship's computers to revive them all himself. Perhaps he could even upgrade the ship's weapons systems…

Khan's smile faded as he turned his search to the location of his crew.

There was no record of their location. The archaeologist had said they were scattered across the quadrant as a safety precaution. Maybe their location would just be under an extra layer of security...Khan ran his virus again. There was nothing.

Khan ripped a chair from the floor and threw it across the room. It smashed a monitor and landed next to a dead officer.

The plan Khan had formed hinged on knowing the locations of his crew. Then, all he would have had to do was beam into the facilities, kill the guards, and bring his crew to safety.

But without those locations...it could take years to find them all. Being hunted by Starfleet the entire time…

He needed to re-strategize.

Khan closed his eyes and focused. His first concern would have to be repairing the Botany Bay. He would need an environmental suit, which the facility certainly had. Tools and supplies to repair and upgrade his ship. A way to ensure the ship's energy signature was masked. Medical supplies, in case he was…

Khan opened his eyes with a snarl. His probability of suffering serious injury while attempting to rescue his crew was substantial. He might not be able to treat himself every time.

He would need a doctor. One familiar with his unique physiology.

And he had just killed them all.

...All but one.

Khan remembered a young, but surly, doctor aboard the Enterprise. He had studied Khan's physiology and taken some of his blood. Khan was certain this doctor was the reason Kirk had made the miraculous "recovery" a Starfleet admiral had boasted about right before Khan was put back into stasis.

Hubris. Once again.

Khan turned back to the monitor and scanned another set of files. His smile returned.

The Enterprise, captained by a very alive James T. Kirk, was on a five-year expedition of exploration. The doctor was still assigned there. The ship could be anywhere in the quadrant, however it was likely that they would be recalled once word of his escape reached Starfleet.

All Khan had to do was prepare.


	4. Chapter 4

After living with the man for years at the Academy, Jim knew that the effort Doctor Leonard McCoy put into his appearance directly correlated with his mood. Which was why, when the doctor arrived on the bridge an hour later than usual, with flat, wet hair that had obviously just been hastily washed, Jim felt a slight temptation to run.

"Glad you could join us, Bones" Jim smiled. "Are Ensigns Rowling, Fisher, Hinkley and Maynard feeling better?"

"I'm here, ain't I?" Bones grumbled. "For the sake of future reference: that blasted aquatic puff ball may only go off every four hours, but its effects last for twenty-seven. And withdrawal involves a whole lot of vomit. Projectile."

Jim grimaced. "Duly noted. Thank you, doctor."

"All in a day and then some's work," Bones said. The doctor crossed to Jim's left and leaned against his chair. "So, where the hell are we headed today?"

Jim looked out the viewscreen. He always thought warp looked beautiful. Millions of stars zipping past so quickly they became streaks of colored light. But they seemed to shine more when he was the one telling them where to go. Orders took some of the fun out of it.

"The Xedna system," Jim said. "Starfleet wants us there, although they're being pretty tight-lipped about why. How much farther, Mr. Sulu?"

"About three minutes, Captain," Sulu said. "Scotty and Keenser's adjustments to the engines have increased our maximum speed by point–five percent."

"Good to hear," Jim smiled. "I owe them a drink. I thought it wouldn't be more than point-two-five percent."

Bones frowned. "Jim, don't tell me you're placing bets on the ship's performance…"

Jim gasped. "What? No...Of course not!" He grinned. "Although, we do have to have fun somehow, Bones."

"I know your idea of fun, Jim," Bones straightened. "And I strongly disapprove of it."

Jim wanted to reply with something witty and suave, but he felt the Enterprise shifting out of warp. The white lines of faraway stars contracted back into pinpoints, and a blue star nestled itself into the upper left corner of the viewscreen.

"Captain, we have arrived in the Xedna system," Sulu said. "Is there any particular area we should head for?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm not sure. Mr. Spock, is there anything on our sensors that could indicate why Starfleet wanted us to come here?"

"I am Detecting a structure on Xedna Eight," Spock said. "No lifesigns. It appears to be of Starfleet design."

"Captain," Uhura called out. "There's a signal coming from the facility."

"What kind of signal?" Jim asked.

"A distress call," Uhura's face was troubled. "It's repeating: 'Emergency 24601. Emergency 24601. Requesting immediate assistance. Emergency 24601' ...I don't recognize that code..."

Jim's breath caught. He turned to Spock. The vulcan's eyebrow was raised in the closest thing the guy would ever let himself get to showing alarm. Uhura wouldn't recognize that code. It was only given out to admirals, captains and first officers. Two years ago.

Of course they would be called here.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Jim said. "Please send out this message in all directions, frequency eight: 'This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Code Delta-Eight-Nine-Charlie-Four. Signal Emergency 24601 received. Standing by for orders.'"

Uhura gave Jim a concerned look, and repeated his command.

Bones crouched down to Jim's level. "Jim, what's going on?"

"You're about to find out," Jim replied.

"Yeah," Bones' face was serious. "Because you're gonna tell me."

A monitor beeped.

"Captain, sensors are picking up a vessel approaching from the far side of the planet," Spock said. "They are hailing us. It appears to be the USS Archer."

"Admiral Orwell," Jim mumbled. "Put them on screen. Stay on frequency eight."

Bones was scowling at him.

"It'll be alright, Bones," Jim said. "Trust me."

Bones huffed. "Sure. Secret codes and mysterious Starfleet bases. This is sounding a little too familiar."

Jim shrugged. Unfortunately, the doctor was not wrong.

The Xedna system flickered out of the viewscreen and was replaced with the grim face of Admiral Martha Orwell.

"Hello, Admiral," For once, Jim's tone matched the situation.

"Captain Kirk," Orwell said. "We're glad the Enterprise arrived so quickly."

"How long has it been since the signal first went out?" Jim asked, hoping it had not been long.

Orwell shook her head. "Four days. We arrived yesterday. He could be anywhere by now."

Jim closed his eyes. This was bad.

"Where who is, Admiral?" Of course Bones would ask.

Jim looked to Orwell. She nodded.

Jim sighed. "Khan. That code meant that this was where Khan was being held. He's escaped."

The command crew gave a collective gasp. Except for Spock, of course.

"How in the hell did this happen?!" Bones shouted.

"Bones," Jim cautioned. "We need to stay calm here."

"Calm?" Bones shouted again. "That homicidal psychopath has been on the loose for four days, and you want us to be calm?"

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said calmly. "If we are to recapture the homicidal psychopath you speak of, we need more information about his escape, and we cannot get that information if you are panicking and shouting over everyone."

Bones shot a look at Spock, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You're right, for once," Bones muttered. "God help us."

Jim turned his attention back to the admiral.

"Do you want us to search the facility?" Jim asked.

"We already did, and there's not much left down there to search," Orwell said. "It seems Khan took everything he could find. All the medical supplies, uniforms, documents, weapons, and rations are gone. It looks like the man even took a couple of the bio beds, which were supposed to be bolted down...He took everything but the bodies."

Jim swallowed. "How many are dead?"

"Twenty-eight," Orwell bowed her head. "Ten doctors, sixteen security officers, a medical anthropologist, and Admiral Yearling. No one survived."

The captain took this in. This wasn't just an escape. This was a massacre.

And odds were, Khan was just getting started.

"We think he programmed a virus into the facility's computers," Orwell's expression was grim.

"What did it do?" Jim asked.

If Khan could find a way into their data network…

"We're not sure," Orwell said. "We think it was a data–skimmer of some kind. The computers weren't connected to anything outside of the facility. All information on them had to be manually entered. The virus hasn't had any impact on the Fleet's network..."

"He could be attempting to locate his crew," Spock said. "Were the locations of Khan's crew on those computers?"

The admiral shook her head. "No. That information was deemed too dangerous to keep in the same facility as Khan."

"And waking up a mass-murderer for a second time was such a safe decision," Bones muttered.

"Bones…" Jim warned.

"Well, damn it, Jim!" Bones snapped. "What the hell did they think was gonna happen?"

"It wasn't a decision made by Starfleet Command," Orwell grimaced. "Admiral Yearling became...paranoid. He thought Admiral Marcus might have created more than one of those war ship…monstrosities. Yearling was afraid there might be an abandoned fleet of those ships, just waiting to be discovered by the Klingons or the Romulans. There was no evidence of this, and so we denied his request to revive Khan. He ignored our denial. And he paid dearly for that."

This seemed to mollify Bones. Slightly.

It also restored Jim's waning faith in the Starfleet admiralty. Somewhat.

"So," Jim said. "What do you need us to do?"

Admiral Orwell tapped something into the controls on her chair.

"I'm sending you the frequency for an encoded emergency subspace channel," Orwell said. "That frequency takes priority over all other messages that travel through the subspace beacons." Orwell continued. "You can use it to communicate with Starfleet Command in real-time. We've scheduled our next meeting for half an hour from now."

A twenty digit series of numbers, letters, and symbols appeared on the Enterprise's viewscreen. Jim nodded to Uhura and Chekov. Uhura logged the frequency into the ship's computers while Chekov began tapping frantically them into an emergency PADD. Better safe than...well, in this case, cut off from the Fleet with a killer possibly gunning for them…

Admiral Orwell leaned in. "Captain Kirk. We have no way to determine where Khan has gone. But we were hoping you and your crew might have some ideas. You are the only people left alive to have had sustained contact with him. We need to know what–"

A flash of white light filled the Enterprise's viewscreen; then the screen went dark.

Jim froze. "Admiral Orwell?" No response. "Lieutenant Uhura, what happened to the channel?"

"It just cut out," Uhura said. "I'm trying to hail them again, but so far there's no answer."

"Captain, sensors indicate that an explosion just occurred on the bridge of the USS Archer," Spock's voice was level, but urgent.

"Get that ship onscreen," Jim ordered. "We need to see what's happened."

The viewscreen flickered, and the USS Archer came into view.

At least, what was left of it did.

The bridge was gone, as was most of the saucer section. Obliterated.

"Mr. Spock," Jim croaked. "Life signs?"

"Fifty seven," Spock replied. "And dropping. The USS Archer had a crew compliment of over two hundred."

"Get us closer, Mr. Sulu," Jim ordered. "Uhura, keep trying to contact survivors. Chekov, tell Scotty that we need to enact Emergency Beaming Protocol Four. Beam everyone from that ship into the shuttlebay, and then sort out the injured and beam them straight to the medbay. Make it fast. We can't put up our shields until those people are onboard."

"Aye, sir!" Chekov turned his full attention to the comms.

"Bones, get down to–" Jim turned. Bones was standing in the turbolift.

"On my way, Jim." The doctor gave a grim nod as the doors closed.

"Mr. Spock," Jim said. "Scan for explosives. Whatever hit them might be headed for us as well."

"Already in progress, captain," Spock called over. "However, without more information as to what just occurred, there may be no way to determine what kind of explosive we are looking for."

"Look for everything!" Jim barked. "Organic, synthetic, a sentient rock spewing lava! If it could take out half a starship, look for it!"

Spock nodded as he worked. "Yes, Captain."

There were a few heartbeats where Jim could do nothing. He set his crew in motion, and they had to do the rest.

"Captain," Spock said. "I am picking up a new energy reading from Xedna Eight."

Jim tensed. "Is it a missile?"

Spock shook his head. "No. It...appears to be...a transporter beam."

Jim's eyes went wide. He understood.


	5. Chapter 5

As CMO of a starship, Leonard was pretty used to taking charge in god–awful situations. Jim seemed to attract danger like a tractor beam, and the rest of the crew was almost as goddamned accident prone. But lately, things had been going well. The science team was the worst medical problem Leonard had faced in at least a month.

He should have known the fates were just gearing up to bite him in the ass.

Leonard was breathless when he reached the medbay door. Sprinting through a starship's blasted never–ending corridors did that to him sometimes. He paused for a moment to collect himself. It would be embarrassing as hell to faint while trying to treat his patients.

According to Chekov, at least twenty six of the Archer's fifty seven surviving crewmembers were being beamed into the medbay in waves. He just hoped to God that they were mostly minor injuries, although the odds of that were about the same as him ever making the pointy-eared bastard laugh.

A scream permeated the door in front of him.

"Well, that ain't good..." Leonard mumbled as he pressed "open" on the door and rushed into the medbay.

"What's the–HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!"

Leonard froze just inside the door. The medbay was quiet, save the moans of a few patients who could not help themselves. Everyone else: every doctor, nurse, and patient, stood as silent and still as a statue, and stared at a pair of figures in the middle of the room. A man clad in black had one of Leonard's nurses by the throat. The man's back was to Leonard, but the doctor knew immediately who it was.

Khan.

Khan was in his medbay.

Khan was in his medbay, and he was threatening Leonard's staff.

The terrorist turned to Leonard.

"Doctor McCoy," Khan smiled. "There you are."

Khan threw the terrified nurse aside, and took a step toward the doctor.

Leonard didn't move. It was one of the few times he wished medical staff were required to carry phasers. Or that triage procedures didn't involve immediately disarming patients. Over forty people in the medbay, and not one of them was armed with more than a hypospray.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop one of the Archer's crew. A man with an obvious concussion broke past his petrified doctor and tried to tackle Khan before Leonard could shout for him to stop. The poor bastard was dead before he hit the ground.

And Khan wasn't even armed.

"You people never learn, do you?" Khan took another step toward Leonard.

Leonard took a step back.

Khan shook his head. "Retreat again, and you will watch me slaughter your entire staff."

Leonard stilled; swallowed. "What do you want?"

The killer moved like a wolf to Leonard's right side, and stared into the doctor's eyes. His smile was chilling.

"I want...You."

Leonard let out a terrified yelp as Khan moved behind him and wrapped an arm around the doctor. His arms were pinned to his sides. His back was pressed against Khan's chest. My god, every inch of the guy was muscle! All it would take was one squeeze at the right angle, and Leonard's rib cage would fold into his lungs.

Khan slapped his left hand down onto Leonard's shoulder. Leonard flinched. There was something metal in the man's hand. It would bruise, if Leonard survived long enough to bruise.

"Let me make this very clear for all of you," Khan said. Leonard could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck. Leonard's skin turned to gooseflesh. "I am taking Doctor McCoy. Attempt to stop me, and you will die. Attempt to pursue us, and I will peel the flesh from the doctor's screaming bones. Do you all understand?"

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody tried to help him.

Khan let out a small laugh. "Doctor, say goodbye to your crew."

Leonard's throat was dry. He felt himself trembling slightly; felt himself close to hyperventilating. He was helpless.

Please, God, let this be a nightmare.

Khan pulled Leonard somehow closer; pressed his head up next to Leonard's right ear.

"Doctor, say goodbye."

Leonard thought of his daughter; of Jim; of his friends...and suddenly knew he'd never see them again.

"Goodbye," Leonard croaked.

Khan slid his left arm down over the doctor's body, giving Leonard a psychopath's imitation of a hug. The object in Khan's hand started to flash.

"I suggest you do not struggle," Khan said. "I wouldn't want you to leave any parts behind."

Swirling white lights surrounded them, blocking out the horrified faces of Leonard's staff. As the transporter dragged the doctor away from his life, he resigned himself to a terrifying fact:

He was going to die.


	6. Chapter 6

Transporters were tedious.

There was no poetry to them. No effort. No powerful engines, or streaking stars. Just the press of a button, a few glittering lights, and one could be halfway across the galaxy. They were practical; nothing more.

But at the moment, practicality was a necessity.

In an instant, the room of petrified cowards was replaced with a far more comforting scene.

At least, comforting to him.

The stone-grey walls and dark lighting of the Botany Bay did not seem to have the same effect on his new companion.

Khan felt the doctor's breath hitch as he took in his new surroundings. McCoy was trembling. Pathetic. But understandable.

"I'm going to let go of you," Khan said. "You have nowhere to run. Don't embarrass yourself."

Khan released him. The doctor stumbled away, and balanced himself against a wall.

Khan watched with some amusement as McCoy struggled to suck in a few shuddering breaths. The doctor was trying desperately to regain his composure. He was failing.

"How long do you think it will take before you get this little panic attack of yours under control, doctor?"

A pair of terrified brown eyes turned to him. Was McCoy crying? Well, Khan supposed the man had just been uprooted from everything he'd ever known. Tears were to be expected.

Khan crossed his arms. He needed to move this along.

"I am certain your mind is tumbling over itself with questions," Khan said. "'What are you going to do to me?' and 'are you going to kill me?' are probably chief among them. Followed, of course, by 'where am I?' and 'why me?' Is this correct?"

McCoy stared at him, but did not answer.

That would not do.

Khan advanced on the doctor, grabbed the front of his shirt, and slammed him against the wall.

McCoy screamed; tried to push Khan away.

Khan slapped him.

It was not a hard blow by his standards, but the doctor's face would definitely bruise. McCoy's arms dropped. He blinked away tears and stared into space, just to the right of Khan's head.

Khan grabbed the man's chin and forced his focus back. McCoy's eyes flickered between pain, fear, and...was that anger?

Khan reappraised the man. Yes. That was anger in his eyes. A tinge of defiance. Interesting. Possibly even entertaining, depending on how he used it.

"When I ask you a question, doctor, you will answer me," Khan commanded. "Do you understand?"

McCoy's jaw clenched; he nodded.

Khan tightened his grip. "I want a verbal confirmation, doctor. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," the doctor winced. "I understand."

"And were those the questions careening through your mind?"

"...Yeah."

Khan smiled. "Good."

He released McCoy and stepped away. The doctor slumped, but remained on his feet.

"Now," Khan turned away from McCoy. "I suggest you follow me. I do not think you would enjoy the alternative."

Khan started walking down the corridor, listening with interest as the doctor took a step, faltered, shuffled, and finally began to follow.

It seemed McCoy had some intelligence.

Khan had chosen the beam–back location carefully. They were not far from their destination, yet he knew the short walk would help the doctor steady his nerves. Khan had no use for a quivering puddle. However, there was also nothing in this part of the ship for McCoy to hide behind, or use as a weapon. Nothing to give him a false sense of security.

The corridor twisted; darkened further. The walls here were embedded with stasis chambers, his people long since removed by that fool Admiral Marcus.

"Is this a ship, or a crypt?"

Khan stopped; turned. McCoy froze a few feet behind him. The doctor's face cringed with immediate regret.

Had the man not meant to say that aloud?

"I–I'm sorry," McCoy stammered. "I wasn't tryin' to insult you or anythin'...It just...reminded me of a picture I saw once of...of catacombs…"

Khan glanced around them, and had to admit the doctor had a point. To someone unfamiliar with the anatomy of a twentieth century sleeper ship, those stasis chambers could resemble burial niches. For twelve of his crew, that was actually fairly accurate.

"It is a ship, doctor," Khan said. "My ship. The Botany Bay. Archaic by your standards, but it houses some equipment that will be necessary...soon. I have also begun retrofitting the ship with Starfleet technology, to make it more formidable."

"Right," the doctor nodded. "How's that goin'?"

Khan frowned. "I see your courage is returning, doctor. Take care that it does not verge into stupidity."

He started walking again; the doctor followed quietly.

They came to the end of the corridor. There was a control panel embedded into the wall, next to a door. Khan turned to McCoy.

"Give me your arm," Khan commanded.

The doctor hesitated, then extended his left hand. Khan grabbed McCoy's wrist, but paused when he saw a glint of metal. There was a small gold band with a blue stone on the doctor's pinky finger. A snake wrapped around a staff was etched into one side of the ring; the other side displayed the Starfleet insignia.

Khan raised an eyebrow. "You actually wear your class ring?"

McCoy shifted. "It's a reminder."

"Of what?"

McCoy didn't answer.

Khan squeezed the doctor's wrist.

McCoy gasped in pain.

"Of how hard I've fought to get back to myself," McCoy breathed. "Before the Academy, my life fell apart. Starfleet, and the people I met because of it, helped me recover...please don't take my ring."

Khan's other eyebrow shot up. To show that much sentiment for a sliver of metal…It was absurd. Yet, the story was too pathetic to be false. That ring could prove a simple form of persuasion in the future...

"Very well, doctor," Khan eased his grip, but did not let go. "You may keep your trinket."

Khan pressed a button on the control panel, and the door opened. He walked in, pulling McCoy behind him.

Khan had not created a fancy medbay for the doctor; however, it was well–stocked. Crates of Starfleet medical supplies were stacked against the sides of the former cargo hold. Khan had seized everything he could find from the facility where he was held. He had even stolen the bookcases from the office of the dead admiral, so the doctor would be able to sort the supplies in a logical manner.

Khan had also placed a medical tricorder, bone knitter, and a dermal regenerator on one of the three stolen biobeds, just in case the doctor's abduction had not gone smoothly. He was mildly disappointed that they were unnecessary.

Khan turned to study the doctor's expression. There was no confusion. Just fear, anger, and resignation.

"You're not surprised?"

McCoy glanced at the makeshift medbay, then at Khan.

The doctor sighed. "Why else would you have kidnapped me? My stellar company?"

Khan chuckled.

"I suppose that's true. Come."

He guided McCoy to the biobed farthest from the door and released his wrist.

"Sit."

McCoy hesitated, then sat.

Khan grinned.

"Stay."

The doctor stood, seething. "I'm not a goddamn dog."

Khan tilted his head. He had been correct. This would be entertaining.

Khan closed the small distance between them. McCoy leaned away. Khan matched him; grabbed his chin; forced his gaze.

"Yes," Khan said, "You are."

He punched the doctor in the stomach. McCoy grunted and doubled over. Khan dragged him onto the biobed as the man groaned. He retrieved a long chain, shackled on each end, from the crates. That had been an...interesting...find at the outpost. Most likely meant for him, but never utilized. Fools.

"And every dog needs a leash."

He fastened one end to the biobed's pedestal, and turned to the doctor.

McCoy stared in horror.

"Take off your boots, doctor," Khan ordered.

"I'm sorry," McCoy swallowed. "Please don't put that thing on me."

Khan approached. The doctor shrank away.

"Take off your boots, before I decide breaking your leg is a better way to ensure you don't try to escape."

Far more fear than anger in his eyes now. Good.

"Fine," the doctor muttered, sitting up with a wince.

McCoy extended his left leg, unzipped his boot, and set it aside. He looked at Khan.

"Both boots," Khan said. "You will not be able to wear just one without stumbling."

McCoy glared, but complied.

"Pick an ankle."

The doctor offered his left. Khan began to crouch, but paused.

"Kicking me will result in very little pain for me, but agony for you. Do you understand?"

Khan did not miss the slight drooping of his captive's shoulders.

"Yeah," McCoy sighed. "I get it."

Khan kneeled next to the doctor's left leg. He closed the shackle around McCoy's ankle.

"This chain is made of duranium," Khan said. "I have tested every piece of medical equipment in this lab. You have nothing powerful enough to cut it."

"Of course not," McCoy grumbled. "They're delicate tools for healing; not hacksaws."

Khan stood. "There is no physical key; just a special PADD that disengages the lock when I enter a code. The chain is long enough to reach a few feet out of the main door, in case I am ever too injured to make it fully inside the medbay on my own. It can also reach the...facilities...at the back of the room. There are fresh uniforms in the crates, along with a few other basic...supplies. Maintain your hygiene."

He turned to leave.

"Wait." McCoy said. "Please."

Khan turned back. "Yes, doctor?"

The doctor shifted on the biobed. "When will you be back?"

Khan chuckled. "I have a lot of work to do on this ship, doctor. You will not starve to death, if that is what you are afraid of."

Khan walked away.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?!" McCoy called after him.

"I suggest you inventory your new medbay," Khan called back.

As he closed the door, Khan heard the clink of the doctor's chain.

It seemed they were both getting to work.


	7. Chapter 7

Spock knew Jim was devastated.

As soon as the captain reported the incident at Xedna Eight to Starfleet Command and received their new orders, he withdrew from the bridge. After a moment, Spock told Commander Chekov to lay in their course, left the bridge in the capable hands of Commander Sulu, and followed his captain.

It did not take long to find him. Logically, there were only a few places the captain might retreat to.

The door to Jim's quarters was locked, however Spock could hear movement inside the room. Based on the sound, the captain may have thrown something fragile.

Spock raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. He knew that something must be done to ease the captain's mind, however he was unsure what would work. Doctor McCoy was the one Jim usually confided in, and that certainly was not an option now. He also knew those meetings often involved alcohol, however it did not seem wise to allow the captain to become intoxicated at this time...

Perhaps he should have brought Mister Scott, or Lieutenant Uhura. They would have a much better chance of appeasing Jim's emotions. However, Mister Scott was still combing the ship for explosives, in case their scans were incorrect, and Lieutenant Uhura was needed to monitor Starfleet communications.

Attempting to aid the captain alone was the only logical choice.

Spock knocked.

"Unless you've got good news or good drinks, leave me alone," Jim called through the door.

"Captain," Spock began. "I believe you may benefit from...conversing about today's events with someone you trust. Would you allow me to come in?"

"...Do you really want to play counselor, Mister Spock? I've got a hell of a lot of emotions to sort through. You might be uncomfortable."

"Your concern for me is commendable, captain," Spock said. "However, as first officer it is my obligation to ensure that you are capable of performing your duties. Your duties cannot be effectively performed from inside your quarters. Mild...discomfort...on my part is irrelevant when everything is factored in."

There was a short pause. Spock heard a dry laugh.

"How logical, Spock," Jim said. "Come on in."

The door opened; Spock crossed the threshold into the captain's quarters. Jim had the human habit of collecting small tokens from their travels and scattering them across his desk and shelves. One such item was lying, shattered, by the captain's closet.

Jim was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor. His eyes appeared slightly inflamed and watery.

"Go ahead and pull up a chair," Jim said. "I've got a feeling you'll be here awhile."

Spock sat in an armchair next to his friend's bed.

"It is possible, captain."

Jim snorted. "Right. Who'd you leave in charge?"

"Commander Sulu."

"Good choice," Jim nodded. "Any word from Scotty?"

"As of our last communication, no explosives have been found."

"That's good. And the crew of the Archer?"

"All fifty two surviving crew members are either stabilized in the medbay, or being assigned to guest quarters."

"Good…"

They slipped into silence. It might have been uncomfortable…for a human.

Spock was still unsure of what he was supposed to do. He noticed a PADD lying next to Jim.

"Were you recording your daily log?" Spock inquired.

Jim shook his head. "I tried. I really did. I thought it would...I have no idea where to start..."

"I believe Starfleet Command would understand if your written report was...delayed," Spock said. "It is logical to wait until one has a clear mind before entering an event into the record."

"Logical, right…"

The captain ran his fingers through his hair and looked up. His eyes shone with what Spock believed was...desperation.

"I swear, Spock," Jim's voice cracked. "I thought Khan was beaming a bomb onboard. I never thought he would...I should have listened to Chekov."

Spock considered this. It was true that the captain had dismissed the navigator's concern when he informed them they had lost communication with the medbay. This delay in action might have given Khan enough time to accomplish his goal. However, Spock doubted reminding the captain of this would be beneficial.

"The probability of an explosive being beamed onto the Enterprise while our shields were down was far higher than that of Khan transporting himself to the medbay and kidnapping a member of our medical staff," Spock said. "That exact scenario appears to be what destroyed the Archer. Interference from multiple emergency transports to the medbay could have scrambled communications. It was logical to continue searching for a bomb."

"I know it was logical, Spock," Jim sighed. He appeared slightly comforted. "Being logical doesn't stop something from being the wrong move."

Unfortunately, the captain was correct. The flaws of acting on pure logic had become more and more apparent to Spock in the past few years. However, the alternatives did not appeal to him.

"We have set course for the coordinates Starfleet Command sent us," Spock said. "We should arrive outside the Vulcan...singularity...in about forty six hours."

The captain stood and paced the room.

"I can't believe they won't tell us why they're sending us across the quadrant," Jim growled. "Bones is probably being...My CMO is being held captive by a mass murdering monster, and they're still– _still!_ –keeping me in the dark!"

Spock watched his captain fume. It was unfortunate that the admirals were withholding information from them, however he doubted the orders were unrelated to recent events.

"Captain."

"We should be looking for him, not running around playing errand boy!" Jim shouted.

"Jim," Spock said softly.

Jim stopped. "What?"

"Khan found a way to mask his transwarp beaming signal," Spock said. "The fact that we detected anything from the surface of Xedna Eight before the abduction was...astounding. It may even have been a deliberate attempt to throw us off of his true intentions. We have no idea where they are, and nothing on which to begin our search. The only thing we can do is follow the orders given to us by Starfleet Command, and urge them to share any information they have related to Khan or Doctor McCoy."

The captain stared at him. Spock met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Jim."

Jim slumped; collapsed back onto his bed.

"I know you're right," the captain sighed. "I just hate it. Bones is...he's like my big brother. All nagging and protective...and caring...I wouldn't be here without him."

"I know, Jim," Spock said. "You are not the only one onboard who cares for Leonard. His absence is being felt by the entire crew."

Jim looked at him, slightly confused.

"Spock," Jim said. "Did you just call Bones, 'Leonard?'"

Spock raised an eyebrow. He had, hadn't he?

"It is possible," Spock said evenly. "I do not normally call the doctor by his first name, out of respect for his position. However...I do sometimes think it."

Jim cracked a smile. It was small; however it was there.

"Do you have any idea what Bones would say if he heard this conversation?"

"I believe I have an idea, captain," Spock replied.

Jim sighed. "You're worried about him, too, aren't you?"

"I have grown...accustomed...to debating with Doctor Mc...Leonard...on complex issues," Spock said. "He can have some...refreshing...if illogical...perspectives. It would be a great loss to never be challenged by him again."

Jim let out a small laugh.

"Yeah, he's pretty good at being...challenging."

There was another short silence.

"He invited us to his daughter's birthday party next month," Jim said.

Spock looked at him, eyebrow once again raised.

"I was unaware Doctor McCoy had children," Spock said.

"Just the one," Jim said. "Joanna. She was born before Bones' divorce. He hasn't seen her in a few years. I've only ever seen pictures. He thought we could swing by for shore leave, if the dates matched up."

"I see," Spock considered this. The separation from his child might actually explain some of the doctor's past behaviors. It was an interesting revelation.

"We've got to bring him home, Spock," Jim said. "We've got to bring Bones home, and stop whatever Khan is planning."

Spock nodded. "I agree, captain. Hopefully, the coordinates Starfleet has ordered us to will yield some answers."

Jim stood, grabbing the PADD.

"They better," the captain mumbled. "You said forty-six hours until we get there?"

"Yes, captain."

"Well then," Jim said. "I'll be back on the bridge soon. First, I'd better take another crack at this log. Please tell the crew to maintain procedures for a yellow alert. We still might not be out of the woods."

"Yes, captain."

Jim turned to him. "Thank you, Spock."

Spock nodded, and left the captain's quarters. He did not yet know how they would find Doctor McCoy and Khan, however if their past propensity to beat staggering odds was based in any kind of logical system, they would find a way.


	8. Chapter 8

It was damn cold.

Khan must've been messing with the environmental controls, because the temperature in the medbay had dropped twenty degrees in the past hour. Not that it had been toasty before, but it had at least been bearable.

Leonard pulled his sparkly red thermal blanket over his head. Why the hell the base had used blood–colored blankets in their medbay was beyond him...and he didn't think he wanted to know why. He was pretty sure the answer was either stupid or horrifying. Not much room in between.

...But the blanket was warm.

At the moment, that's all Leonard cared about.

"Damn superhuman jackass screwin' with the thermostat," Leonard muttered. "He's probably not even cold. Me, I pop my head out of this thing, and I'm shakin' like a rattler. How's a doctor supposed to work if his hands are numb?"

To be fair, there wasn't much work for Leonard to do. The doctor wasn't sure how long he'd spent pulling equipment out of crates and placing them in some sort of––god help him if Spock ever heard him use the word––"logical" arrangement, but the medbay was as organized as it was going to get. Sure, there were a few PADDs he could reread, but he didn't see the point.

Leonard shifted on the biobed. The chain on his ankle clinked annoyingly. It didn't get in the way too much. He could exercise a little. Do some push-ups, or crunches...but jumping jacks and jogging in place were just aggravating. The worst part was when he tried to wash up, and realized that he was going to be stuck in the same pair of pants for god–knew how long. That, and the water that must've come straight from a glacier.

At least he had about thirty extra shirts.

...Not extra. These weren't just any spare uniforms. They belonged to a medical team that Khan had murdered. Starfleet doctors and nurses, butchered…

Leonard sighed. Those thoughts weren't helping his situation. Although, to be honest, there was little that would. A warm fire; a nice snort of Tennessee whiskey; an industrial–grade duranium cutting laser...all those things sounded real nice...

Leonard heard the door hiss open, and tensed. What mood would Khan be in this time? The doctor had only been there for two days, and been beaten three times. He hadn't even done anything...Leonard wasn't sure if Khan was trying to break him, or just liked punching.

"Good evening, doctor," Khan's voice was strained.

Leonard sat up, pulling the blanket off of his face. His breath misted in the air around him. Christ, it was cold…

"What do you ne…" The doctor stopped mid word.

Khan was hurt. The killer's right sleeve looked like it had been cut away by a pair of hedge clippers. Something metal was sticking out of his right bicep.

"What the hell happened?" Leonard asked.

Khan glared at him, crossed to the second biobed, and sat.

Leonard was on his feet before he realized what he was doing; years of medical training kicking in whether he wanted it to or not.

He slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, and grabbed a medical tricorder, hypospray and protoplaser. Odds were that thing had nicked a major vessel.

As Leonard moved toward Khan, he felt something wet on his feet. The doctor looked down.

"Son of a…" Leonard muttered.

Right. No boots. Khan had dripped blood all over the floor. And now, Leonard had to work in blood–drenched socks. In a room the temperature of a freezer.

"Get this shard out of my arm, doctor," Khan growled. "Or I'll add a few gallons of your blood to that little mess."

Leonard's heartbeat quickened. Better to ruin his socks than...that. He crossed to Khan, set the protoplaser on the biobed next to him, and started scanning the man's injury.

"Well the good news is the shard missed the brachial artery," Leonard said, setting the scanner next to the protoplaser. "So you probably won't bleed out when I remove it. Bad news: that hunk of metal's in there pretty deep. It'll take a few minutes for the protoplaser to fix all the muscle damage, even with your...ability...speeding things along."

"Do what you need to do," Khan said.

Leonard lifted the hypospray toward Khan's neck.

Khan's left hand shot out and grabbed Leonard's right hand so fast the doctor yelped and almost dropped his equipment.

"However, I will remain conscious throughout your work."

Leonard clenched his jaw. Khan was tough as hell, but if he lashed out in pain…

"It would be an easier procedure if you were sedated," Leonard urged. "From what I understand, anesthetic metabolizes damn quick in your system. The localized stuff'll–."

Khan squeezed.

Leonard felt the bones in his right wrist grind against each other. He gasped in pain and dropped the hypospray.

"I will remain conscious," Khan's eyes were terrifying.

"Okay, okay!" Leonard panted. My _g_ _od_ , it hurt! "Ya can stay awake."

Khan dropped Leonard's arm.

"Good. Get to work."

The doctor cradled his wrist. He was pretty sure nothing was broken, but he could feel bruises forming.

Maybe the frigid room was a good thing after all. Reduced the rate of swelling.

"Alright, just give me a second," Leonard said. "I need to think."

The doctor looked around the medbay. He grabbed another hypospray, this one prepped for local anesthesia, for all the good it'd do...There had to be something in here to restrain Khan with if the pain got too bad, or at least something the man could grip that wasn't attached to Leonard's body.

Leonard rushed to the shelves, pulled out an emergency splint, and went back to the biobed. The blood in the doctor's socks made a trail wherever he went.

"Here," Leonard handed the splint to Khan. "If the pain gets too bad, break that thing, not me."

The killer scowled. "I will do my best, doctor."

"Good," Leonard mumbled. "Now, this hypo's just for the local stuff. With your physiology, it might not permeate enough to reach the deepest part of the wound. So I need ya to lie down in case ya get woozy on me."

"Very well, doctor," Khan stretched himself across the biobed. "I trust you won't do anything foolish."

Rolling his eyes, Leonard pressed the hypo into Khan's right arm, set it down, and grabbed Khan's lower arm for leverage. The doctor wished he had a staff to help hold the man down. It would've made this so much safer.

Then again, under the circumstances...

He would have to work fast if he didn't want the anesthetic to completely wear off. Although, frankly, Khan had hurt and killed so many people, Leonard was tempted to slow down a bit. A little bit of good ol' karma.

...Like that would end well.

Leonard grabbed the piece of metal. "Are you ready?"

Khan looked up at him. "If you count to three, I'll break three of your fingers."

Leonard blinked. "Okay, no counting then."

Faster than he could say: "You're an ass," Leonard yanked the piece of metal from Khan's arm.

The killer's whole body jerked, but he didn't scream. The wound steamed in the cold room.

With a silent prayer of "please don't hit me, please don't hit me…" Leonard quickly swapped the metal out for the protoplaser.

No pulsing blood. So far, so good.

As layers of muscle and nerves began knitting themselves back together, Khan's back began to arch. He snapped the splint in half. Leonard cringed, but kept going. It was working remarkably fast; faster even than the doctor had expected.

Spooky magic super–blood…

The wound was mended in less than four minutes. The epidermis sealed in a little bump of new, pink skin. The doctor didn't have to readminister the hypo once.

The cold was sending shivers down Leonard's spine. Khan still seemed unaffected. Lucky bastard.

The doctor picked up the medical tricorder, and did a final scan.

"Looks like you're all healed up," Leonard said.

The doctor stripped off his bloody gloves, sat on the edge of his biobed, and cloaked himself in his blanket. Thank god, the thing still had some heat trapped in it.

"I'd advise against doing...whatever it was that you did to get that thing stuck in your arm. But you're good to go."

Khan sat up; tossed the broken splint aside.

"It was a simple accident, doctor," Khan lightly touched the new tissue. He seemed distracted. "I was attempting to repair the Botany Bay's nuclear engines. A component shattered from age, and a piece lodged itself in my arm."

"...Wait," Leonard's eyes widened. "Ya mean to tell me that this ship runs on nuclear power?"

"Yes, doctor," Khan said. "In my century, nuclear energy was already used for much more than the killing. Although, most of the technologies did come out of wars. It is an effective, long–lasting power supply. If all the parts were in proper working order, this ship could run for another hundred years without having to find a new fuel source."

"Huh," Leonard huffed out a cloud of vapor. "Soo...the ship isn't about to explode, is it?"

Khan turned to the doctor and tilted his head. "No. Why would it?"

Leonard frowned. Khan's story wasn't adding up.

"You just said you got hurt working on nuclear engines," Leonard said. "Why did my scans not pick up any radioactivity?"

"Did they not?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, not a trace."

A smile formed on Khan's lips. "You're an intelligent man, doctor. Tell me: what is an alternative explanation for my injury?"

Leonard pondered this. Why would the man lie? Was he just playing with the doctor's head? Screwing with his sense of reality? And if he was lying, then how did he hurt himse…

That was it.

"You did it to yourself," Leonard accused. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It was a test, doctor."

"A test of what?" Leonard was stunned. "Your tolerance for pain? There are better ways to test that than impaling yourself on some random piece of metal!"

Khan shook his head. "A test of you, doctor. Of your professionalism."

"My professionalism?!" Leonard stood, outraged. "You kidnap a man, and then you question his professionalism?"

The killer rose to his feet. It always surprised Leonard that they were nearly the same height. That didn't make the man any less terrifying.

Khan took a step toward him. The doctor recognized the look on his face.

He needed to change his tone. Fast.

"You know what, I get it," Leonard blurted.

Khan stopped. "Get what exactly, doctor?"

"You need a doctor for...whatever you've got planned. And, since I've got the luck of a gopher in a minefield, you picked me. I assume it's because I've studied your physiology before, and also because it was a good way to piss off Jim and Spock. Though with your blood's properties, I'm pretty sure it's more of a forty–sixty split there..."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "Correct. And?"

"...And, of course, you don't trust me," Leonard said. "Why would you? You don't know me. I may be a doctor, but I'm also a hostage. Who's to say I wouldn't bend some oaths to get back at you?"

"And that is why I needed to test you, doctor," the killer chuckled. "And, I will say, you did well. Your resourcefulness in finding an alternative to sedation was crude, but proper for the conditions I created. The environmental adjustment, although obviously uncomfortable to you, did not hamper your quality of work in the slightest. You were expedient, even when you could have slowed down and caused your tormenter more pain than necessary. I would not hesitate to use your services again, if the need should arise."

Leonard stared. Did Khan just compliment him? He wasn't expecting that to...

...Wait...environmental adjust…

"I can't believe it," Leonard growled. "You turned my medbay into Antarctica just to see if it'd hurt my ability to work! I've been freezing my ass off for over an hour!"

Khan shrugged. "I needed sufficient time to ensure your discomfort. It was necessary."

The killer turned; walked toward the door.

Leonard felt his blood pressure rise.

"Get back here, you Frankensteined bastard!"

Khan turned back. His expression was a stomach–churning mix of surprise and fury.

"Excuse me?"

Crap.

Well, no way out but through now…

"I'm not a machine," Leonard protested. "I'm not an experiment with variables for you to manipulate. Dammit, I'm not even just a doctor. I'm a person! With a name! And basic needs, like food, and water, and _heat_ , and to not be chained to a goddamn bed for the remainder of my natural life!"

There was a lump forming in Leonard's throat. "I have family that I want to get back to someday. People who need me. People I love. You can't keep treating me like some sub–human punching bag!"

Something rolled down the side of Leonard's cheek. He touched his face, and discovered he was crying.

"Aw, hell," Leonard mumbled.

The doctor heard movement, and looked up. Khan was coming at him, fast.

"Aw, hell!"

Leonard dropped his blanket and scrambled around his biobed, trying to put as much distance between himself and Khan as possible.

Khan simply stepped on the doctor's chain.

Leonard tripped; fell hard to the floor; grunted in pain. That might've cracked a rib...

Khan towered over him.

"Are you finished, doctor?"

Leonard wasn't sure if he was trembling because of the cold, pain, or fear. He guessed didn't really matter.

"Yeah," Leonard muttered. "I think so…"

Khan smirked. "Good."

Khan crouched; straddled Leonard's legs.

The doctor's breath caught.

Oh, god...

He'd read Jim's report about what happened to Admiral Marcus.

No.

Please, no...

Leonard closed his eyes. He wouldn't beg. If he was going to die here, he was going to do it bravely...

...He was so scared.

The killer's hands rested on Leonard's face. The doctor flinched. The hands burned against his freezing skin.

Khan's thumbs brushed against Leonard's eyes, wiping away his tears. The doctor opened his eyes, confused. The man stared down at him. Leonard was reminded of old stories about the Angel of Death. Blue eyes icy as the room...

"Let me remind you of your situation," Khan's voice was far too calm. "You are alone out here. No one knows where you are but me. If I so choose, I can walk out that door and never come back. You would starve to death. Alone. I am all you have. And yet you curse me; provoke me. Why do you bite the hand that feeds you, doctor?"

Leonard opened his mouth; closed it. Everything he could think to say would get him killed.

He'd really screwed up.

...Well then...at least he'd get a few good last words in.

"I–I," Leonard's voice cracked. He grimaced. Bad start.

The doctor cleared his throat and tried again.

"I am not your goddamn pet, and I will never–"

Khan cut him off with a laugh. The threatening hands slipped from Leonard's face to the floor, supporting the killer's weight as he shook with laughter.

The doctor's wide eyes flicked around the room. What the hell was happening? Was he hallucinating?...He'd finally snapped, hadn't he? Khan was crushing his skull, and this was his brain's last hoorah before…

Khan's laughter began to subside. The man stood, leaving the addled doctor on the floor.

"I do apologize, doctor," Khan chuckled. "I am certain your speech was going to be brilliantly suicidal. However, your choice of words were too farcical for me to take you seriously."

Leonard sat up, gaping. "What the hell do you mean, 'too farcical?'"

Khan nudged the doctor's chain with his foot.

"You are my pet, doctor," Khan said. "A useful pet, but a pet nonetheless. I feed and shelter you, although you are clearly beneath me on an evolutionary level. Your objection to the title does not disprove its accuracy."

Leonard's face flushed with outrage, but he bit his tongue. Things were taking a humiliating, but less–lethal, turn, and something in him was screaming at him to just keep his mouth shut.

"I have missed this, doctor," Khan smiled. "Complete control over another human being. Ruling. I haven't felt this kind of power since before my exile."

The killer crouched again. Leonard pulled his knees up to his chest; hugged them; winced.

Yeah, he'd have to use the bone–knitter on that rib...

"I will adjust this room's temperature to something more...comfortable," Khan said. "I need you healthy, should your services ever actually be required. Say 'thank you.'"

Leonard gritted his teeth. If this was what it took to stay alive…

He just wanted to go home...

"Th–Thank you."

To the doctor, the words sounded like they came out of a tin can, but he'd said them.

Khan nodded; extended his hand; tousled Leonard's hair.

"Good doctor."

Leonard's eye twitched.

Khan rose and surveyed the room.

"I suggest you take off your socks," Khan ordered. "You're tracking my blood everywhere."

Leonard nodded. "Okay."

The doctor peeled the blood–soaked things off his feet.

...Did he have any spares? He couldn't remember.

Barefoot medicine. Perfect.

"I will be late bringing your next meal," Khan walked through the doorway. "This...incident...took far longer than I had anticipated. I have a lot of real work to complete today."

Leonard was pretty sure he already hadn't eaten in at least six hours, but there was no way in hell he was going to bring that up.

"Okay."

The door closed.

Leonard looked around. There were trails of blood all over the floor. He'd have to scrub it at some point. His blanket was lying a few feet away. The doctor scooted over to it; draped it over his shoulders; staggered to his feet. He stumbled to his biobed and collapsed onto it, hissing as he bumped his injured rib.

Leonard pulled his sparkly red blanket over his head, ignoring a protest from his swelling wrist. He was still trembling; trying to fight back another round of tears.

...But at least he was warm.


	9. Chapter 9

Pavel really wished the captain had picked someone else for this mission.

Then again, he wasn't about to argue with the man. Captain Kirk had been scowling for the past three days, and their new orders from Starfleet had not improved his mood.

The navigator fully understood why the captain had chosen him to pilot a shuttle near the edge of the Vulcan black hole. Hikaru had more experience, but they needed their best pilot on the Enterprise in case they were attacked.

And, like Hikaru, Pavel had taken advanced courses on navigation in temporal distortions…

It didn't make him any less nervous.

The navigator opened a communication channel. It was their last chance for a few hours.

"Chekov to the Enterprise," Pavel said. "We are nearing the ergosphere of the Wulcan singularity. We should reach the outpost in about twenty minutes, our time."

The reply came back in half a second.

"Good luck, Mr. Chekov." The captain's voice was distorted, but understandable. "Get them out of there. And stay away from that event horizon."

Pavel shuddered. He had no intention of getting pulled into the singularity. The outpost they were heading for was just inside the ergosphere. As long as they didn't go any farther than that, they would be fine.

"Aye, Captain. Chekov out."

A low voice behind him huffed. Pavel turned. Lieutenant Hendorff was shaking his head.

"Twenty damn minutes," Hendorff said. "What is that, six hours their time?"

Pavel thought; shook his head.

"Eight."

"Eight!" Hendorff rolled his eyes. "You brainiacs ever realize that maybe we shouldn't mess with time distortions? The Enterprise could be long gone by the time we get back!"

Pavel sighed. He was glad that he wasn't going to the outpost alone, but did they have to send him in with the Macho Cupcake?

At least, if Khan was already there, he'd have someone to help him. For about three seconds...

"They will not leave without us," Pavel said. "They know that we might not be able to get back for a few days, their time. We just need to worry about completing our mission."

"Right," Hendorff snorted. "Pick up five frozen augments and their caretaker from an outpost surrounding a black hole. We have a terrorist on the loose, and Starfleet has us doing milk runs."

"They need to be moved," Pavel insisted. "Starfleet is looking for Khan, but they have no idea where he is. It is important to change where his crew is being kept, in case he has discovered their locations."

"Yeah, I get it," Hendorff said. "But why start with a black hole? From a security officer's standpoint, this'd be the safest outpost out there. Starfleet could detect a ship coming for Khan's crew in a heartbeat, and just sit around waiting for a couple days for it to leave again."

Pavel had thought this strange as well. There were surely outposts that Khan was more likely to go after than one where he'd be a sitting duck on his way back out…

"I don't know, lieutenant," Pavel said. "But there must be a reason."

Hendorf just shrugged. The navigator looked at the viewscreen. The outpost was only able to house a handful of people. There was a small docking bay on the side facing them. That's where Pavel headed.

It was time to hail them. Pavel opened an encrypted channel provided by Starfleet Command.

"Outpost 2487A," Pavel said. "This is the shuttlecraft Gilliam, of the USS Enterprise. Requesting permission to dock."

There was a crackle of static, then a woman's voice came over the channel. It sounded oddly familiar.

"Permission granted, Gilliam," the voice said. "I wasn't expecting you guys for another couple days."

The dock's doors opened, and Pavel guided the ship in.

He looked back at his companion. Hendorff was double-checking the settings on his phaser. They had been ordered to keep them set just below kill levels. It was the only thing they knew could slow Khan down, besides a very angry Vulcan.

Hopefully they wouldn't need either...

The back of the shuttle opened, revealing a face Pavel had never expected to see in a place like this.

"Nurse Chapel?" Pavel blurted.

Nurse Chapel stood there, arms folded, frowning slightly. Her hair was auburn this time––she was always changing it. There was an engagement ring on her finger.

"Well, actually, Pavel," Chapel's mouth twitched to a smile. "It's Doctor Chapel now. I can see by your empty shuttle that you're not my resupply ship, so would you care to tell me what Starfleet's cutest little navigator is doing on my outpost?"


	10. Chapter 10

The doctor was beginning to task him.

It seemed McCoy did not understand the concept of keeping one's mouth shut and doing what one is told.

A simple concept Khan thought McCoy would have learned after five days in captivity.

Every time Khan thought the doctor was breaking, the man's snark returned in full. He thought the humiliation of being treated as a pet might be enough to sap McCoy's will.

However today, after being told to sit, McCoy muttered that Khan should do something...anatomically impossible.

Khan looked up from the device he was building and flexed his right hand. The scrapes on his knuckles were already healed.

He could not say the same for the doctor. When Khan left to work on the bridge, the man was whimpering pathetically on the floor.

Khan thought this latest beating might make the doctor learn his lesson, however he was not optimistic.

Why was McCoy making this so difficult for himself? Did he want to live? Did he want to drive Khan to murder?

It certainly seemed the doctor was courting his options.

Khan thought he might need to try a...gentler approach. If brute force wouldn't get through to McCoy, then perhaps a sudden shift to kindness would disorient the man.

...Maybe even spur on the development of Stockholm's syndrome. It would be a triumph if he could turn the doctor against his old friends; one that would cause those sanctimonious buffoons a great deal of pain.

However, he doubted that plan would work. McCoy seemed to think of his crew as a family, and Khan knew how difficult a bond that was to break...

...Perhaps McCoy's workload was just too miniscule. Too much time alone, with nothing to do but brood and hope.

There were a few ways Khan could fix that.

A panel started to beep. Communications. Khan rushed to it.

He had risked a trip back to Xedna Eight a few days before. It seemed as though Starfleet had abandoned the facility, however a nearby subspace beacon was still operational. He had hacked once again into the facility's computers and rerouted their sensors to transmit through the beacon. He could now not only intercept some Starfleet communications, but could also tell when a ship approached the planet.

As one, apparently, just had.

It was a small ship; only one lifesign aboard. However, it appeared to be stocked with food, water, and medicine.

A supply ship.

Had the Federation not abandoned the base after all?

"Starhopper to Xedna Eight," a man's bored voice sounded out of the console. "Sorry for the delay. I got caught in an ion storm; had to shut down and ride it out. It fried a lot of my systems, but I'm here."

Khan frowned. This seemed far too convenient. Could it be a trap?

He could not afford to take unnecessary risks. However, if this man was actually the pilot for a Federation supply ship, he would not just supply this one base. Without even realizing it, the pilot might know the locations of some of Khan's crew.

The risk was necessary.

Khan pressed the comm button.

"Hello Starhopper," Khan said in his friendliest voice. "We're glad to see you made it. Please standby."

"Will do. Not like I have anywhere else to go."

Khan smiled. No, the man did not.


	11. Chapter 11

Someone was screaming.

Leonard's eyes shot open. It was the middle of the...well, his sense of time was all screwed up, but it was well after the time when Khan turned off all the medbay lights...so he counted it as night.

The doctor sat up with a grimace. Everything hurt. He'd taken the time to fix his broken nose, ribs, and dislocated shoulder, but exhaustion hit before he could do the rest.

"Hello?" Leonard called out.

No answer, except more screaming. A man's voice.

Leonard stood; limped to the door and opened it. His chain went taut about three feet into the hallway, and he almost fell over.

"Khan, is that you?"

Well, who else would it be?

Still no answer. The doctor carefully scratched his cheek. Khan hadn't given him a way to shave. His growing stubble–beard itched like crazy, but too much pressure aggravated his bruises.

Another scream.

"Khan!" Leonard shouted. "If you're too hurt to get to the medbay, then ya need to let me off this chain! I can't help you from…"

There were footsteps in the hallway. Strong, even footsteps.

The doctor's heart sped up. Whoever that was obviously wasn't hurt.

Were they under attack?

Leonard felt a surge of hope.

This was it! Jim'd found him! He was going home!

...But what if they were under attack from someone besides Starfleet?

Leonard backed into the medbay. He needed to be realistic. He had no idea where in the quadrant he was. As much as the doctor wanted out of there, he also really didn't want to end up on the wrong end of an Orion slave raid, or prisoner of the Klingons, or of anybody else who had a beef with the Federation.

He looked down at his tattered uniform. Leonard hadn't bothered to change shirts after that last beating. Seemed a waste to keep destroying new ones...and it hurt to lift his arms above his head.

Leonard scolded himself. He was in absolutely no condition for a fight. If their attackers weren't Starfleet, he was pretty well screwed.

The doctor hid behind the storage crates.

Like they'd actually offer any protection. All someone had to do was give a good hard yank on that damn chain, and he'd be flat on his ass in the middle of the room.

Leonard listened as the footsteps slowed; stopped. His breath caught in his throat.

Whoever it was, they were here…

"Doctor, why are you attempting to hide from me?"

A bizarre mix of relief and dread filled the doctor at the sound of Khan's voice. He wasn't about to become an Orion slave; but he was still stuck out here with a freaking sadist.

Leonard rose; stepped out from behind the crates. Khan's form was silhouetted by the light from doorway. There was something conical in his hand...

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "I wasn't hiding from you. I heard screaming. Thought we were under attack…"

The killer chuckled. "No, doctor, we are not under attack. Although I understand why you would think so. Sit."

Leonard crossed to his biobed and sat on its edge. He really didn't want a repeat of their last encounter…

"If we're not under attack…" Leonard hesitated. "Then what was all that screaming?"

Khan chuckled again. Like that wasn't eerie as hell...

The doctor had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

The lights came up. Leonard blinked the spots out of his eyes and glared at Khan, wishing the man'd given him a little warning before…

Khan was covered in blood.

And it obviously wasn't his. The man's hands and arms were splotched with red up to the elbow. There were splatter patterns on his face and shirt; smears on his pants.

Leonard stared.

Khan smiled.

It took everything Leonard had not to run, scream, or cry as Khan walked toward him. Everything.

"I brought you a gift, doctor," Khan gestured with the bottle in his hand. "Saurian brandy. I hear it is quite strong."

The killer held out the bottle; Leonard took it with a shaking hand; examined it.

It was sticky with...dear god...

"What does one say when given a gift, doctor?"

Leonard looked up at Khan, lost. What does one…?

Oh.

Right.

"T–Thank you…?" The doctor said.

Khan's smile grew.

"You are quite welcome, doctor. And to answer your earlier question, the screams are a result of an...interrogation I am performing."

"...An interrogation?"

Please, please don't mean...

"Of a pilot," Khan said. "It seems he runs the supply route for seven Starfleet outposts: Xedna Eight; two mining colonies; and four facilities of...unknown...function. Of course, I learned his basic route from his ship's navigation logs, but there was no guarantee those were complete."

Leonard swallowed the bile that was creeping up his throat; managed a whisper:

"Why?"

Khan tilted his head. "Be more specific. Do you mean 'why am I interrogating the man?' or 'why do I want to know the places his ship supplies?' I have already answered the former."

Leonard looked down; thought hard about his next words. He wanted to rail against Khan for torturing the pilot. But doing that would just piss the guy off, and ensure the doctor an even more painful night...

"The places," Leonard said. "Why does it matter where else...What are you looking for?"

Khan nodded. "Good choice, doctor. Although, the real question is not what, but whom."

Leonard's eyes widened as it finally hit him. Just like that, the entire confusing nightmare of the last five days made perfect sense.

Of course.

"Your crew," the doctor said. "You're looking for your crew."

"Yes, doctor," Khan said. "You have finally found the heart of the situation. As I understand it, my crew has been scattered across Federation space. However, it would stand to reason that a supply ship that services one secret location may also service others. This pilot is the best lead I've had."

The killer turned; started to leave. "You can go back to sleep, doctor. I will not need you tonight."

Leonard looked up. "But what about the pilot?"

Khan turned back. "What about him?"

"You...You've been torturing him," Leonard explained. "If he's as hurt as I think he is, he needs medical attention. Now."

"Doctor," another goddamn chuckle. "Your ability to misread my intent is almost charming. I have nearly everything I want from the pilot. When I finish, there won't be anything left for you to heal."

Leonard's stomach dropped. There had to be something he could do, something he could say that would...

"But he could help you with the ship," the doctor said. "A Starfleet pilot on a supply ship has to know how to fix his own systems. He could help with your upgrades."

Khan shook his head. "I know what needs to be done. I don't need his help."

"For god's sake, man, have a heart!" Leonard pleaded. "I get that you can't let him go; just lock him up here with me. He can be my assistant. I'll teach him. Please. The guy probably has a family waiting for him somewhere!"

Khan stalked back to the doctor and crouched to his eye level. The doctor lowered his gaze. He could smell the blood on Khan's face. Leonard gripped the bottle in his hand, knuckles turning white.

"You keep mentioning family," Khan said. "Whose are you more concerned about: some unknown pilot's hypothetical one, or your own, very real family?"

Leonard's mind raced. What the hell did that mean? Did he mean his friends on the Enterprise? Or did he mean Joanna? Did Khan know about Joanna? Had Khan seen his personal files? He might've...was Joanna's location in his personal files? Khan wouldn't...

Yes, he would.

"What are you talking about?" Leonard breathed.

If Khan went after Joanna, Leonard would kill him, super blood be damned…

"During your little tantrum a few days ago, you said you had family to get back to," Khan said. "I believe you said they were people who need you; people you love."

The doctor closed his eyes. His own damn mouth...what the hell could he say?

"I–I didn't mean...I meant––"

"I know exactly what you meant, doctor."

Khan grabbed him by the jaw, right in the center of his bruises. Leonard hissed; instinctively moved to pull the hand away; stopped.

Khan's eyes never got less intense, or less petrifying.

"Do you want me to divert my focus from the safe recovery of my crew to the massacre of yours? People you care so deeply about that you wear a ring to remind yourself of them?"

For the first time ever, Leonard wished he was a Vulcan. He tried his best to hide the emotions that flickered through him, but doubted he was successful.

Khan didn't know. Khan didn't know about Joanna.

...But all of his friends on the Enterprise...Leonard's adoptive family of lovable idiots...Khan knew about them, and thought they were fair game...

"Do you want me to do that, doctor?"

Leonard shook his head, as much as he could with Khan holding it so tightly.

Khan smiled. "Good. Then you will sit here quietly, drink your brandy, and not say another word about the pilot."

The killer released him with a small shove. The brandy sloshed in the bottle as Leonard caught himself.

"Do not drink too much, doctor," Khan called as he left. "If I find my crew, and they are in need of medical care, I will expect you to be sober."

Leonard stared at the door for a few moments after it closed.

That poor pilot…

...There was nothing he could do.

The doctor turned his attention to Khan's gift. Probably from the pilot's personal stash, since the Federation had banned the stuff the year before.

Leonard wiped the bottle off on his ruined shirt; undid the plug; sniffed. It was the real thing. A couple sips could put him under for the night, if that's what he…

The screaming started again.

Leonard tilted the bottle back, and gulped.


	12. Chapter 12

Pavel missed Christine Chapel's smirk.

He still remembered the day he met her. The nervous fourteen year old had sprinted to his entry–level survival course on his second day at the academy, terrified the professor would notice that he was two minutes late.

Pavel shouldn't have worried. He'd burst into a nearly–empty classroom, panting, and was greeted by an amused Christine.

The professor was sick; class was cancelled. He'd sent the message out too late for some of the cadets to catch it, including Christine. She'd decided to wait around a bit, to catch any confused stragglers like herself. They went and got lunch.

That was the start of a warm friendship. She would tease him mercilessly about his age, and he'd tease her about the time their professor asked her out.

If Pavel was being honest, he may have had a slight crush on her. But, well, he had been seventeen when she left the Enterprise, and he had crushes on almost everyone he met.

Now he was twenty. He was older. More mature than he'd been then. And...

Christine's smirk was still beautiful.

He really hated making it fade.

"So," Christi...Doctor Chapel frowned. "It happened. Khan escaped."

"Aye," Pavel said. "We have no idea where he is going..."

"And Starfleet's worried he'd come here," Chapel nodded. "No time to waste, then. Follow me."

Chapel turned away from Pavel and Hendorff, and started out of the docking bay at a brisk walk. The pair looked at each other, then followed the doctor.

They passed a small kitchen. Apparently they'd interrupted Chapel's breakfast.

As they walked, Pavel noticed that Hendorff kept looking over his shoulder. It was like the man expected Khan to pop out from a shadow at any moment.

…If he was being honest with himself, Pavel had done it a few times too.

"The five members of Khan's crew kept here are special cases," Chapel said.

Hendorff's head snapped forward. "Special how? Are they awake?"

The doctor's head shook.

"Far from it. With all that happened with Khan, very few people have been in a rush to wake up more Augments. But these five...their cryotubes are failing. We think it's either a glitch caused by microfractures in the magnetic casing of those torpedoes they were kept in, or simply just a manufacturing error. Admiral Marcus took Khan's crew out of their ship's original cryostasis chambers, and built portable cryotubes based on some pretty old designs."

"No one has really worked on new cryostasis technology since warp was inwented…" Pavel said.

"Exactly," Chapel confirmed. "Whatever is causing it, the people stuck inside the tubes are dying. Removing them isn't an option: it's a fifty–fifty shot of killing them or waking them up, and I can't…I'm doing everything I can for them."

"What's Starfleet's solution?" The navigator asked. "How does keeping them together solve––"

Chapel turned; stood in the middle of the hall next to a set of double doors. Hendorff almost bowled Pavel over as the navigator stopped in front of him.

"The admirals don't want to solve the problem," Chapel said bluntly. "They don't want to save these people. Or, more specifically, Admiral Yearling doesn't want to save them. He's in charge of the Augment Relocation Program. As long as he says the risk of waking up five new potential Khans is too high, any glitching pods get dumped on my doorstep. Every hour in this part of the ergosphere is a day outside of it. Starfleet can drag its heels for years, and these people will still be slowly dying."

Pavel swallowed. "That's just––"

"But Admiral Yearling is dead," Hendorff interrupted. "Khan killed everyone on his way out."

A strange look crossed over Chapel's face; she turned away.

"Like I said, things happen fast outside this place," the doctor muttered. "Come on: it takes a while to get them ready for transport."

Chapel pushed open the double doors.

Some part of Pavel had expected the cryotubes to be empty. That Khan would've slipped in and out without anyone noticing his presence.

He was relieved that part of him had been wrong.

They were all there: three men and two women, lying on a row of flattened biobeds; encased in tubes of steel and transparent aluminum. Medical monitors flashed around them, some more urgently than others.

"I'll have to take them off the outpost's power supply," Chapel said, moving to the biobeds. "It's been supplementing the power loss from the failing tubes for the past few days. I was hoping you guys were bringing the portable generators I requested on my first day here, but I've got a feeling Admiral Yearling never even put in the order."

"Will that hurt them?" Pavel asked.

The doctor shook her head. "We'll get them onto the portable gurneys before I disconnect them, and once we're on your shuttle I'll hook them up into its power grid…I'll have to wean them off of the grid so their systems don't go haywire. On the shuttle, I'll have to bring the levels back up slowly, too, or the surge could overload them. We'll do the same once they're on the Enterprise. It'll take a while, but if we rush, they'll all die."

"How much time will this take?" Hendorff asked.

"Two hours. Three, tops."

Pavel did the calculations in his head. Their trip to the outpost had taken about fifty five minutes, their time, which meant just traveling to and from the station was a two day trip from the Enterprise's perspective. Adding in the fifteen minutes or so they'd already been there, it was looking like they weren't going to get back to the Enterprise for about…

"Five days," Pavel said. "By the time we're done here, five days will have passed on the Enterprise."

Chapel sighed. "Count yourself lucky that's all the time you lose."

The navigator looked at his old friend. How long...?

"…Doctor Chapel?" Pavel said. "When were you assigned here?"

"Just drop the doctor stuff, Pavel: I'm your friend."

Pavel blushed.

"Sorry, Christine."

Christine huffed; smirked; faded to a frown. "From my perspective, I've been here eight days…so that's about six and a half months, standard time."

"Six and a half months!" Hendorff exclaimed. "That can't possibly be right!"

"It's simple math," Christine said. "One hour in the ergosphere is about twenty four hours outside of it; eight days in becomes one hundred ninety two total days out. Like it or not, I've been here six–point–four months, give or take a few days. I'm only three and a half years older than you now, Pavel."

The navigator nodded with a small smile. She was right. On a theoretical level, he knew how severe time distortions could be, but it was still amazing that over six months could pass in eight days.

Hendorff blinked, but seemed to accept it.

"Alright," the security officer said. "How about we get these…people off of here before Captain Kirk's retired?"

Christine nodded, and had them transfer the cryotubes to the gurneys while she disconnected the monitors.

The doctor's estimate had been spot–on: by the time the Augments were loaded into the shuttle and connected to its power, three hours had gone by.

Pavel looked at his old friend as she buckled herself into the seat beside him. They'd been out of touch for over a year, and now he knew at least part of the reason why. But…

"So, Christine," Pavel said as he guided the ship away from the outpost. "How did you end up inwolved with this? I thought you were on the outer frontier…"

Christine gave a sad smirk.

"I was, for awhile," she said. "It's a long story."

Pavel glanced at the ring on her hand. He was too old to be jealous of…someone…but…

"A story that includes a fiance, I see. Congratulations!…What did he think about your disappearing for six and a half…"

Pavel heard a sniff; turned to Christine. She was crying.

"What's wrong?" The navigator's eyes widened. "What did I say?"

Hendorff rushed up from the back of the shuttle. "What the hell did you say to her?"

Christine wiped her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm sorry…" She said, turning to them. "I was trying to wait until we got back to the Enterprise to…Hendorff, you said that Khan killed everyone at the facility where he was being kept?"

The security guard nodded; put his hand on Christine's shoulder. She grabbed it; looked up at him.

"Did that include a medical anthropologist named Dr. Roger Korby?"

Pavel knew that name.

"Our old professor?" The navigator asked, surprised.

Then he remembered…The professor who'd…

Oh, no…

Christine nodded. "I met up with him again out on New Vulcan. We…he became my fiancee. Then, when Khan…We were both assigned to the facility, before…He's dead, isn't he?"

Pavel closed his eyes. They hadn't had a full list of the dead by the time he'd left the Enterprise. The facility had been so secretive…

Hendorf shook his head. "I don't remember who…I don't know."

"I'm not sure either, Christine," Pavel said. "I'm sorry…"

The doctor took a breath. "Well, then…I suppose I'll find out…soon."

Pavel did his best to navigate the debris in the ergosphere as Hendorff awkwardly comforted his old friend. They finished the trip in an awkward silence.

As they approached the Enterprise, they were greeted by a sarcastic, obviously stir–crazy, captain.

Pavel's mind wandered as they docked; helped Christine transfer the cryotubes to the Enterprise. He hoped more than anything that Roger Korby hadn't been on that base. If he was someone that Christine could fall in love with, then his death would be…

He just wanted his friend to be happy again.


	13. Chapter 13

Khan was an expert tactician. Before taking action, he mentally played out scenario after scenario, accounting for any plausible variable. This had saved his life many times.

He used the same approach now.

The pilot had brought the supplies from a hub far from Xedna Eight. That facility was only the first on his list, and the other outposts were mere days apart from each other by ship.

The portable transporter was a must. Should he encounter greater resistance than anticipated, he would need to leave quickly.

However, beaming directly into the unknown Starfleet facilities was a poor choice, even if the coordinates were exact. The danger was not in the people, but their electronic defenses. If they were protected by a forcefield, as the bases most certainly were, he would be inadvertently transported into space. An environmental suit could keep that outcome from being lethal, however it still raised unacceptable levels of risk. His only safe option was to travel to the bases by ship, even if it took far longer.

The Starhopper was a boon. Its engines were remarkably fast; even better, the outposts were still expecting it.

Khan had worked extensively to...extract...the ship's command codes from the pilot. Those codes, and a few simple repairs to the ship's systems, allowed him to use the Starhopper as his Trojan Horse.

Khan left McCoy with enough food to last five days, in case his travels took longer than anticipated, and left to investigate the facilities.

The first unidentified Starfleet base had housed...interesting...technologies. A few of which Khan had beamed back to the Botany Bay. Their creators were no longer in a position to miss them.

The second base had turned out to be a site for deep space telemetry. It was staffed by three charming science officers.

...Well, it was unstaffed now.

Neither facility sounded an alarm. He did not give them time.

The third outpost was no less susceptible to his initial ruse.

It was, however, far more heavily fortified.

A few of the guards actually managed to give him some minor phaser burns before they died. The alarm was triggered, stealing any chance Khan had of taking the fourth base by surprise.

More of a nuisance than anything. He would find another way.

Khan murdered his way through the outpost, easily disarming and capturing the last surviving officer from the control area.

His command to the terrified man was simple: take him to where he needed to go.

Khan had given the same command in the first two bases. It was vague enough that, should his crew not be on the outpost, Khan could still acquire whatever thing of value the outposts were protecting. The first two guides had brought him to quite interesting places.

He was certain this time would be no different.

His hostage led him to an area at the heart of the base, to a series of rooms locked by a single keypad. It only took two broken fingers for the man to give up the code. A bit disappointing.

The doors around them swung open; the room to Khan's right was empty. He shrugged, pushed his hostage inside, and re–locked the door. He might need the man again, but Khan was growing tired of his sobbing. Storing him was an effective temporary solution.

The next few rooms were empty as well. Khan was growing suspicious. Had that sniveling officer led him into some kind of trap? If so, the man's acting skills were much better than Khan had realized. Not that it would save him.

There. A shadow moved in the last doorway.

A final ambush, waiting for him.

Apparently, his hostage had chosen the wrong career.

Khan gripped his knife in one hand and a phaser in the other.

"I know you are there," Khan called. "Despite what you may have heard, I can be merciful. Surrender and bring me to what I want, and you may not experience death today."

The shadow shifted; became two. Three. Four. The figures stepped into the hall, hands raised.

Khan gasped.

"No…"

He had not planned for...why would Starfleet risk this?

Khan unconsciously lowered his weapons; slightly lowered his guard.

He soon regretted that mistake.


	14. Chapter 14

Leonard wasn't sure Khan was coming back.

It had been four days since that asshole'd left the doctor with a box of food rations and a promise to return before they ran out. And the doctor knew for damn sure that he wasn't exaggerating: the medical PADDs had internal clocks.

Four goddamn days. Alone.

And twelve days...here.

On day nine Leonard had wiped the memory of one of the PADDs and turned it into a journal. It was probably his best idea in a while: writing certainly beat trying to make sculptures out of empty food containers.

Or drinking. The doctor'd finished the bottle of Saurian brandy the night before.

...It wasn't his best decision...

But writing! Writing was good. And quiet. It had been a pleasant way to nurse the last bits of his hangover. It also kept his mind off the nagging feeling that he was going to die, either alone and starving or bleeding and beaten, in the next few days.

Leonard looked at the PADD. He wanted so badly to write letters to his daughter; to Jim; a few other people he cared about. In case…

But if Khan did come back and discovered those letters...

Instead, he wrote about anything and everything else. Khan's healing abilities. The progress of his itchy beard. A letter of resignation from Starfleet. A letter rescinding that letter. Speculations on how to vaccinate for the Auroral virus.

...Khan's treatment of him…What he feared Khan had done to the pilot...

If he died out here, at least there'd be a record of what happened to them.

A glimmer of light near the doorway caught Leonard's eye.

Someone was beaming in.

Leonard hid the PADD under his blanket and stood as Khan's form replaced the transporter's sparks.

The doctor's breath caught.

"What in God's name…?"

Leonard had thought Khan nearly incapable of bruising. The killer's healing ability seemed to fix minor blood vessels too fast to allow for it.

But now…

Half of Khan's face was yellow and purple. His body was pocked with precise burns indicative of phaser fire. The killer's hand carrying the portable transporter trembled, like it was almost too heavy to hold.

...And he was bleeding badly from a wound across his stomach. From this far away, Leonard couldn't tell how deep it was.

Khan began to sway.

Leonard's chain rattled as he rushed over. He caught Khan as the man collapsed. The transporter fell to the floor; broke apart.

Well, there went that inkling of a plan.

"Alright," Leonard grunted, tried to help the man stay up. "It's gonna be alright. But I need your help here. Gotta keep your feet under ya if––"

"I've lost them," Khan slurred; slipped in Leonard's arms.

Leonard had to get him moving. "Look, Khan. I ain't gonna lie: you're really hurt. And I think it's the kind of hurt that even you can't just walk off. So if ya wanna live, you'll help me get ya to that biobed."

That seemed to do the trick.

Khan straightened slightly; gripped Leonard's shoulder. The man was so weak, the hand almost slipped off again before the doctor could pull it over his back.

"Come on," Leonard muttered.

They staggered to the closest biobed. Leonard carefully helped the man lay down, then ran to grab his equipment. On the way back, he almost slipped, and had to stop for a moment to suppress his gag reflex.

He missed shoes.

The doctor began his scans. It wasn't good. That stomach wound...a normal person would already be dead...

"I've lost them…" Khan whispered again. His voice was desolate.

Khan's vitals were getting worse.

"It's okay," Leonard said. "You didn't lose anyone. You're just delirious from blood loss...Look...I need to put you under. I can't operate on somethin' like this while you're awake. Ya'd die from the shock alone."

Khan looked up at him; nodded.

Leonard signed in relief. Thank God.

"It's gonna be okay…"

He pressed the hypo into Khan's neck. Khan's eyes closed; he was out.

Leonard got to work. Without an assistant to monitor Khan's vitals, he'd just have to hope that propping the medical tricorder in the crook of the man's arm would read enough. It would also be hard to see what he was doing, without someone to help sop up the blood, but if he worked fast…

...What the hell was that crusty green stuff on Khan's sleeve?

The doctor paused; scanned it with the tricorder. If it was some kind of radioactive or viral contaminant, then it could cause...

No. It was blood. Dried Vulcan blood.

Leonard took a step back.

At some point in the last few days, Khan had fought and most likely killed a Vulcan.

There were so few Vulcans left. Where the hell had Khan been? What had he done?

...And what would he do if he got up from that bed?

Leonard felt sick. He'd taken oaths that told him what he was supposed to do here. But how could he apply them to…

...To this monster.

Khan had killed so many people, and he'd undoubtedly kill again if Leonard saved him. To let Khan live was to condemn who knew how many others to death.

But to let the man die...

Leonard touched the ring on his left pinky finger. Khan was way off when he assumed it was meant to remind him of his crew. Well...it did, and that had given him some strength in the past two weeks...but it was far more than that. It reminded him of the consequences of the only time he'd ever broken his oaths.

His father...the unexpected cure a few weeks too late…

Losing his family; falling into depression…

Having nowhere to go, until Starfleet took him in…

Everything Leonard had built for the past six years had started as an effort to make up for that one horrible mistake. That one slip from his Hippocratic principles that set in motion a chain of events he could never have imagined.

It had almost cost him everything...

Leonard put on his gloves, biting back a scream of frustration.

It wasn't his decision to make. He couldn't play God. Not again.

The doctor picked up the protoplaser and got to work. He had a life to save.

Leonard just hoped someone would forgive him.


	15. Chapter 15

There were times when Jim wondered if the only requirements for becoming a Starfleet admiral were to look imposing and say profound–sounding things.

Even if those "profound" things were actually absolutely ridiculous.

...If those _were_ the requirements, he was already halfway there.

But to tack on that whole imposing thing, Jim would have to ease up on his whole cocky cuteness motif for a hot second, and that was a sacrifice he wasn't ready to make.

Jim sat at a mess hall table, poking at his salad wryly. He hated lettuce, but a while back he'd promised...Bones...that he'd try to eat healthier. Apparently only that grumpy doctor was allowed to count coffee as a food group.

People did say that doctors were the worst patients. Jim wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he'd heard people say it...

The captain set down his fork; rubbed his increasingly irritated eyes.

This wasn't working.

Spock had told Jim that if he kept skipping meals, the traitor'd go to Acting CMO M'Benga about it. Which would lead to a stern talking–to from some imposing, profound–sounding admiral, all because he didn't want to eat his vegetables...

But how was Jim supposed to have an appetite when the entire admiralty seemed not to care about finding Bones and Khan?

Jim sighed. He knew...he knew they wanted to find them too. He knew.

But it sure didn't feel like it.

"Captain, may we sit with you?"

Spock's voice broke Jim out of his own head. The captain looked up to find his first officer and Lieutenant Uhura staring at him.

Well, Spock was staring. Uhura was rolling her eyes.

Jim huffed. "I've told you a hundred times that you don't have to ask, Spock. We're friends. Just pull up a chair."

Spock and Uhura sat across from the captain. As usual, Spock's tray held a bowl of soup, a small salad, and some tea. How he could live on that day after day, Jim didn't know. It was so boring.

At least Uhura was being adventurous. That strawberry cheesecake looked delicious…

"Can I have some of that?" Jim asked.

Uhura raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, captain: get your own."

The communications officer pointed to the serving area. There were a few slices of cheesecake left. Maybe he could…

"Captain," Spock said. "It would be wise to finish the rest of your lunch before eating dessert. You cannot live on sugar alone."

Jim rolled his eyes and took a bite of his salad. "There. I'm eating the healthy stuff. Happy?"

Spock nodded slightly. "It is necessary for you to take care of yourself."

"I know, Spock," Jim said. "So, Uhura, anything new from the admirals?"

"They granted Doctor Chapel's request to transfer back to the Enterprise."

Jim nodded. That was good. They had been...down a doctor…for two weeks. Chapel was great at what she did, and had already saved lives in the past few days.

...Even if a small, dark part of Jim questioned if those lives had been worth saving.

They had brought the five members of Khan's crew that had been at the edge of the Vulcan singularity to a new facility at Starbase 12. There, Captain Rowan had tried to convince Jim that the crew's cryotubes did not need to be weaned off the Enterprise's power supply.

Doctor Chapel objected fiercely, which led to a slip from Rowan that revealed a lot more about his plans for the Augments than Jim had ever wanted to know.

The commander had never intended to care for them. He had hoped the journey would be enough to kill the Augments off. That way, he could keep be rid of five potential threats to the Federation while keeping his conscience clear.

As soon as Jim realized this, the entire conversation changed. He had the Augments weaned off the external power supply as carefully as he could, and insisted that Doctor Chapel and some of his crew aid in the transfer to the station. It went off without a hitch.

He also told Rowan that he would be checking in on the base periodically. To make sure that the security of the base had not been compromised, and that everyone in the commander's care was safe.

Jim was sure Rowan got the implication.

Now, they were heading to a base closer to Earth. There was supposedly nothing wrong with the pods the next batch were kept in, so there shouldn't be any more trouble on that front...And it wouldn't take as long.

Jim still hated it. The entire mission seemed redundant. Like they were just going through the motions of keeping the Federation safe instead of actually getting to the root of the problem. They should be focused on looking for Bones and Khan, not––

"Captain," Spock said. "You are bending your fork in half."

Jim looked at his hands. Spock was right.

Oops…

"Sorry, Spock," Jim sighed; put down his mangled fork. "Just distracted. How is she adjusting?"

Uhura gestured for Jim to look behind him; he turned. Ensign Chekov and Doctor Chapel were eating lunch. Whatever Chapel had just said, Chekov was laughing.

Jim smiled. The pair had been together almost every minute since they'd left Vulcan. It was nice to see old friends reunited, even if the circumstances were...just awful.

"She is handling the death of her fiance admirably," Spock noted.

Jim's smile faded. He took a closer look at the doctor. Yes, Chapel was smiling, but her eyes were puffy. Her hair was far messier than he'd ever seen it; her hand kept wandering to touch the engagement ring that she had not taken off.

Spock was wrong.

"Vulcans aren't the only species who can mask their emotions, Spock," Uhura said. "Human masks often come with a smile."

Jim nodded in agreement and turned back to his friends.

"It's gotta be hard for her," Jim said. "To have been stationed on an outpost where time passes so quickly...She lost the last few months she had with him."

"And undoubtedly survived as a result," Spock noted. "Had she been stationed with her fiance, Khan would have killed her like all other medical personnel."

The captain had to admit that was true. Some silver lining...

"Doctor Chapel has offered to help me program our computers to differentiate between normal Humans and Augments," Spock said.

Jim looked at his first officer, confused.

"How does that work? Augments are human."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "However, Doctor Chapel claims to have discovered that some of their enhancements generate unique markers in their blood. The doctor believes our sensors are powerful enough to detect the markers from a great distance."

"That's great," Jim approved. "What does she need to make sure it works?"

Spock tilted his head slightly. "Doctor Chapel would like permission to test the scans on you, Captain."

"Me? Why m––Oooh."

Right. The whole "dying" and getting a transfusion of super blood thing.

"So she thinks the stuff is bioaccumulative?" Jim asked.

Spock nodded. "If she is correct, it means that transfusions like the one you received could have long–term effects."

Jim grinned. "You mean I might be developing super strength?"

Uhura snorted. "Because that's just what your ego needs."

"I do not believe that to be the case," Spock said. "However, Doctor Chapel does believe the markers could still be in your system."

"Alright," Jim threw up his hands. "If it helps, she can do all the scans she wants."

Maybe the scans could help them find Khan, especially if he came after them again...

Sulu's voice came over the comm. "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

With a groan, Jim pulled out his communicator. He'd only eaten a few awful leaves…

"Kirk here. What's up, Mister Sulu?"

"Captain, the admirals have relayed a distress call from another outpost. It is near where Khan was held. They believe he may still be in the area."

The captain's brow furrowed. "Wait, there were more bases near there? Why didn't they have us secure those first?"

Aaand the creeping suspicion Jim had that Captain Rowan had been under orders to let those Augments die if possible just reached a new level.

Or maybe there had been something classified on one of those bases that the admirals didn't want him to know about…

Either way, not a smart move. Now it would take a couple days to get back there...

"I'm on my way," Jim said. "Go ahead and set a course. I'll talk to the admirals."

Spock and Uhura moved to rise when he did; Jim waved them off.

"Nah-ah. You two eat. There's no reason for you two to miss lunch."

Spock nodded, and moved to sit across from Uhura.

Jim winked at them. "Enjoy the date, you two."

Spock opened his mouth to protest; Uhura cut him off.

"We will, Captain. Enjoy escaping your salad."

Jim grinned and moved to the door. On his way out, the captain grabbed the last piece of strawberry cheesecake.

He couldn't afford to skip a meal, after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Consciousness returned to Khan as a bit of a surprise.

His mind was clear. The concussion that had blurred his vision as he navigated the Starhopper away from that accursed facility was gone. He did not even have a headache.

There was little pain. Given the extent of his injuries, Khan had expected a great deal of it.

But most astonishing of all: he was alive.

The distinct clink–rattle of McCoy's chain met Khan's ears; he opened his eyes.

He was in the medbay. On his ship. His pet doctor was fussing over a PADD by the next biobed, back to him.

Khan smiled faintly.

Yes. He had survived.

Given the circumstances surrounding his injuries, this was nothing less than a miracle.

The smile vanished. Those fresh memories filled him with rage.

...And grief.

But mostly rage.

Khan was covered up to his neck in a red blanket. His shirt was missing; most likely cut away by McCoy to better access his wounds.

Khan observed his savior silently. McCoy's hair was visibly damp; caked to the sides of his head. His feet looked raw, as if they had been scrubbed until the epidermis nearly began to bleed. The doctor's shirt was as spotless as the floor.

It was clear Khan had been unconscious for some time.

McCoy had clearly not realized Khan was awake. The doctor looked more relaxed than he had ever seen him.

He could change that. Easily.

"Doctor."

"Holy hell!"

McCoy jumped; dropped the PADD; spun around; tangled his ankles in the chain; almost fell over; recovered without grace.

Khan shook his head, disgusted.

He owed his life to this...mouse.

Khan sat up, ignoring the small twinges that spread throughout his stomach. Reminders of the knife that had nearly eviscerated him.

The doctor ran to his side.

"Hey, take it easy," McCoy put a hand on Khan's shoulder; tried to push him back down.

He failed.

To Khan's surprise and irritation, the doctor did not relent.

"Look, modern medicine's great, but it's not magic," McCoy said. "There's a lot of fresh scar tissue and pissed off nerve endings in that gut of yours. If you were normal, I'd say ya needed to lie here here for at least a day in case I missed somethin'. For you, a coup––"

"Doctor," Khan growled. "You would be well advised to move away from me."

The doctor's jaw set.

"You brought me here to keep you alive. I just spent hours doing that. Could ya please meet me halfway and––"

"MOVE!"

Khan shoved him. Hard.

McCoy flew across the room; slammed against the floor. He grunted as the air was driven out of his lungs.

"You son of a…" McCoy coughed; clutched his sides. "...Was just tryin' ta _help…_ "

That man _truly_ did not know when to stop talking.

Khan rose; advanced on the doctor. His hands were white–knuckled fists.

The outrage on the doctor's face cracked; turned to fear.

"No…" McCoy wheezed; struggled to move away.

Enough was enough. Too much had gone wrong.

"Please..."

It was time to teach this––

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

McCoy began to cry.

Khan paused.

The doctor's apology reverberated through his mind.

...Was this a wise move?

The anger he was feeling toward McCoy was misdirected, and Khan knew it. It was the events leading to his injuries that had truly enraged him.

...As irksome as it was to admit, McCoy had just saved his life. The fact that the doctor had not left Khan to bleed out on the table was a testament to McCoy's integrity…

But even integrity has its limits. Were Khan to take his frustrations out on the man now, McCoy might not be willing to save him again.

And if Khan could not control his temper, he might be forced to find a new doctor for a different reason...

That would be wasteful.

McCoy had proved himself to be a skilled surgeon. Khan could not think of a single doctor he had met during his time in Starfleet that could outperform the one he already had, especially under duress.

At this moment, beating the doctor would just ensure McCoy turned bitter, vengeful, and useless.

Khan's fists unclenched.

"Stop."

The doctor froze at his command. Khan closed the distance between them and crouched. He heard the man's panicked breaths; watched tears soak into McCoy's shallow beard.

Khan extended a hand.

McCoy flinched.

"Take it, doctor," Khan ordered.

McCoy gawked.

Khan sighed, exasperated. "I am not going to hurt you. Take it."

The doctor complied. His hand was sweaty, trembling, and cold.

Khan helped McCoy stumble to his feet; gestured toward the doctor's biobed.

"Sit."

McCoy did.

Khan studied the man, trying to decide how to handle this situation if violence was off the table. Tears were no longer running down the doctor's face, but McCoy's breath was still spasming. His expression was a blend of fear and confusion.

Honesty would probably yield the best results.

"I apologize, doctor," Khan said.

McCoy blinked; sniffed.

"I–I'm sorry...what?"

"You were simply doing your job," Khan sat on his own biobed. "I lashed out in an unbefitting manner. My reaction was motivated by...other events."

The doctor looked down. He was obviously attempting to choose his next words carefully.

"Would you attack me again…" McCoy looked up nervously. "...If I asked what happened out there?"

Khan leaned forward, smiling.

"For such a good doctor, you have a poor sense of self–preservation."

McCoy's lower lip trembled. "I'm just trying to––"

"I know, doctor," Khan said. "It was a joke. I suggest you laugh."

The doctor tried to smile; he forced out a breathy chuckle.

Khan let him sit in the awkward silence until he found the courage to ask again.

"So…"

"I found some of my crew."

McCoy's mouth dropped open.

"Th–That's good, isn't it?" McCoy asked. "I mean, for you. You wanted to––"

"No, doctor," Khan shook his head. "It was a disaster. They were awake."

"How is that a disaster?"

Khan glared at the doctor, but did not make a move.

McCoy was missing a lot of context…

...How Khan had tried in vain to convince his four old friends that they were his people; his crew. How all four had moved on him as one; disarmed him while his guard was down.

How, when Khan finally managed to break away, Otto lashed out with the blade. How he'd turned it back on his attacker. His friend…

"They attacked me," Khan explained. "Drove me back to the docking bay. The Starhopper was the only ship there; I trapped them by taking it. It may still be salvageable, as long as it hasn't drifted too far from my transport coordinates."

Something flickered across the doctor's face. There was something he was not saying.

"What is it, doctor?"

"Um," McCoy shifted; pointed to the bookshelves. "You kinda...dropped and broke the transporter...on your way in."

Khan looked at the bookshelves. The pieces of his portable transporter were lying there.

"May I ask why you did not try to fix it and escape?"

"I'm not an engineer. Or a navigator. Just didn't wanna get beamed into the sun."

Fair point.

Khan crossed to the device; studied the fragments. It was fortunate McCoy had not attempted repairs: he would have done more harm than good. A few pieces were shattered, but most of it was actually in working order. He could fix it with some spare parts in the––

"Um..."

Khan turned back, annoyed. "Yes, doctor?"

"...Don't get me wrong," McCoy said. "But why in god's name would your own crew attack you?"

Khan closed his eyes. He could still feel Joaquin slamming his head repeatedly against the floor; demanding he tell them what he had done to Khan; why he was using that name.

"They did not recognize me, doctor," Khan explained.

He had no idea how many more of them were awake. All of them? None of them?

His strategies would have to be adjusted once again.

"If they are awake, I will need to find ways to prove to them who I am," Khan muttered.

"What do you mean by prove?" The doctor asked. "If these people were willing to become popsicles for ya…"

What did that imbecile just say?

"...Then wouldn't they already know––"

Khan flew toward McCoy. The doctor could not move fast enough to stop Khan from catching a fistful of the his shirt.

Maybe just a little violence...

Khan backhanded him. It was a satisfying sensation.

McCoy's bottom lip split open; a new bruise began to bloom across the man's jawline.

The doctor went still. Khan turned McCoy's head back to him. There were tears in the doctor's eyes again.

"Never," Khan hissed. "Never talk about my crew in that manner again. Do you understand?"

McCoy nodded; winced. "Absolutely."

"Good."

Khan released him; collected the broken transporter; started for the door.

He stopped; turned back.

McCoy's comment had earned a him little more torment than that.

"You do fine work, doctor," Khan said. "I will be back to my full strength soon, and able to continue my mission. Thanks to you.."

McCoy stiffened. He wiped his bloody lip on the back of his hand; looked at it. The doctor's expression changed.

Khan smiled. There it was.

Guilt.

There was guilt in the doctor's eyes now. Maybe even some defeat...

Good.

McCoy glared at Khan.

...No, it was just guilt.

And more than a little anger.

What would it take to truly break this man?

The doctor grimaced; spat blood onto the floor.

"You're welcome."


	17. Chapter 17

James T. Kirk was a notorious flirt.

Christine Chapel knew this. At the academy, she had spent a few months on the receiving end of his mischievous grins and teasing winks before they realized it wouldn't work.

Christine was not one for games, and all Jim had done was play them. Whether it was some kind of unaddressed abandonment issue, or an addiction to...promiscuity...Christine doubted Jim had ever had a romantic relationship last a year. Friendships, yes. She was a testament to that. Significant others, no.

From what Pavel said, the captain had grown up a lot in the past few years, but there was only so much a person could change.

...Which was why Christine was a little worried about how the next few moments were going to go.

If everything went as planned, Jim would be in and out of her hair in less than an hour. Hopefully he could last that long without blurting whatever innuendo popped into his head.

The doctor looked over her equipment, making sure there was nothing missing. She was using an isolation room at the back of the medbay as a temporary office. It had two long benches on the side walls; it was cramped, but she could make do.

Technically, there was a real office that no one was using that she could borrow...but to request that was out of the question.

The only person who seemed brave enough to enter Doctor McCoy's empty office was acting CMO M'Benga, and he really didn't have a choice. From what Christine understood, McCoy kept a lot of patient notes in there that M'Benga now needed...Asking to use the missing doctor's office would have been callous; not to mention tacky.

It was best to avoid doing anything that could draw attention to herself...Even if it would make her job a lot easier if she had an actual desk.

The doctor sighed; tried to focus on her current problem.

She really didn't know if she could handle a flirty Kirk right now. She could hardly deal with the puppy dog eyes Pavel kept giving her without snapping.

She didn't think it was his fault: Christine was sure Pavel didn't even realize he was doing it...Or how it was making her feel.

It was just...far, faaar too soon.

...She missed Roger so much...

A part of Christine still couldn't believe that he was gone. Roger visited her dreams every night: smiling, laughing, talking. In the most lucid dreams, Christine could almost feel his hand touching hers; swore she could smell his cologne as she woke up.

The mind is an amazing thing. If only dreams didn't evaporate so quickly...

If she hadn't argued with Admiral Yearling about...If she'd just let it go...Christine would have been able to stay with him. Spent those six and a half months with him; married him on some strange little planet with a fascinating culture.

...Died with him.

Christine shook her head; fought back the burning feeling that was filling her eyes.

It was just survivor's guilt. And grief. She knew that's all it was...She didn't want to die.

Especially now.

Her knowledge of Augment physiology could help stop Khan's rampage across the quadrant. The image of Khan being brought back to Earth, bound in so many chains he couldn't stand, kept playing through her head.

Christine would do what she could to make it happen.

"Um...Doctor Chapel?"

Christine looked up to see Jim leaning against the door.

Time for a smile…

"Captain," Christine smirked. "Come in."

The captain bounced to the center of the room.

"Okay," Jim clapped his hands; grinned. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just stand still," Christine said. "I need to do a full body scan."

"Sure thing."

Hmm.

No comment about buying a guy a drink first.

Maybe he had grown up.

"Would it mess up your scans if I talk? You know how I like to multitask."

...Just a little.

"That would be fine, Jim. Just don't move."

The captain nodded; Christine began her scans.

The first pass was just an appraisal of Jim's overall health. His levels were good; surprisingly so for someone who was reportedly eating almost nothing but junk food.

"I'm guessing Spock has you running a few extra scans, doesn't he?" Jim asked.

Christine shrugged. "He asked that I make sure you're healthy. Apparently, you skipped your physical last week."

"Doctor M'Benga's not as persistent as…" Jim stopped. "How do I look?"

"Your metabolism seems a bit overactive..."

"Yeah, just ignore that."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Ignore it?"

"It's nothing," Jim shrugged. "Well, not nothing, but it's not a problem. Just...well, actually...for what you're doing, you probably shouldn't ignore it."

Ah.

"A side effect of Khan's blood?"

"Yeah, that's what Bo…" Jim swallowed. "That's the idea...I also kinda...heal twice as fast as a normal person...and haven't gotten sick in two years. And my allergies are gone."

Her other eyebrow raised.

"Look," Jim shifted. "Nobody knows that I'm still having side effects but you, me, and...Doctor McCoy. Maybe M'Benga, but I skipped my physical, and it's never been put into my records. I just...I joke about it with people all the time, but that something's really still happening...that's not information I want getting back to the admirals."

Christine could understand that. She suspected Khan's blood had actually turned the captain into a kind of Augment. He could be pulled from active duty for a more thorough study of his condition if that were the case.

"We thought something like that might have happened," Christine mumbled.

Jim looked startled. "Who's 'we?'"

"The other doctors on Xedna Eight," Christine said. "We were testing the nature of Khan's augmentations," Christine said. "Admiral Yearling's orders. Every few weeks, we took him out of his cryotube, put him under heavy sedation, and collected samples for a battery of tests."

"I see…" The captain looked uncomfortable. She understood why.

Christine started the next scan. If her hypothesis was correct, this pass would show the hormonal markers of an Augment.

"The long term side effects of a transfusion were still just speculation when I was reassigned." Almost done with the scan... "We found an enzyme in his blood that we believed could actually rewrite DNA to be more like his. No one was sure if it could actually work, and the idea of testing the hypothesis was more unethical than I was comfortable with."

The medical tricorder began to beep. Christine smiled.

"It worked," She turned; set the equipment on the bench behind her. "The tricorder is registering you as an Augment, Captain. I will send the program to Commander Spock."

When she turned back, Jim was frowning.

"What did you mean by, 'more unethical?'"

Her smile faded.

She shouldn't tell him this. She had orders.

...The man who gave those orders was dead.

And he had taken Roger with them...

She sat on the bench. It was time to drop these stupid formalities.

"I've done some things I'm not proud of, Jim."

"I see."

"No, you don't."

How could she explain…

Christine sat on a bench.

"Do you remember why I left the Enterprise?"

The captain nodded.

"To help establish the New Vulcan settlement. They needed doctors and nurses."

"I wanted to do my part," Christine said. "We had been attacked; I wanted to help in any way that I could. And I did help. I learned everything I could about Vulcan physiology; I entered an accelerated program to become a doctor. I saved lives. And then I met...Roger...again, and he convinced me to do some work on the Outer Frontier. I was happy."

She smiled. That year had been...amazing. So many new sights; new experiences; new species...

"If you were happy there, why did you get involved with this?"

"After Khan attacked us, I felt that calling to help again." She had to make him understand. "So did Roger. He contacted some old friends from his time at Starfleet Academy and asked if there was any way we could help. That's how we ended up on Xedna Eight. In a research lab with some of the most...questionable ethical standards in all of Starfleet."

Jim took a step back. "You...experimented on Khan, didn't you? Not just his blood, but his actual body? An unconscious, non–consenting––"

"Oh, no!" Did he really think she was capable of that? "God, no. I would never…That's _why_ I ended up on the Vulcan outpost."

Jim crossed his arms. "What do you mean?"

"Admiral Yearling gave the order to start testing how fast Khan's healing abilities could work," Christine said. "And yes, that involved exactly what you would think. There are lines I would never cross, and that was a big one. I refused, and threatened to tell the other admirals."

The captain's mouth formed an "O."

"And to keep you quiet, he transferred you to Vulcan."

Christine nodded. "You have no idea how happy the guy I replaced was to see me show up. Or how ticked Roger was that the admiral wouldn't let him go with me."

Jim sat next to her, obviously unsure what to say.

"I'm sorry, Christine..."

Christine sighed. "There's nothing that can change it now. I just wish I hadn't let myself get caught up in the post–attack fear. The attitude that brought me to that facility is the same one that started the Eugenics Wars."

Jim looked confused. "How so?"

Well, that was a can of worms…

"Roger was researching Augment culture," she explained. "The leaders, like Khan, played on the fears of the common person; exploited long–held biases; turned neighbors against each other; curbed freedoms in the name of safety."

"Just like admirals Marcus and Yearling tried to do..." Jim said.

"Just like we're still doing." Christine said.

The captain gave her a look.

Christine gave one back.

"What do you think Starfleet's endgame is for the other Augments? Letting them go?"

Jim shook his head. "They can't. They're too dangerous to––"

"And who says that?" Christine asked. "What do we really know about these people, except that they are Augments? The histories from that time are scattered, but we know that some Augments were created purely as experiments. Children, taken from their homes and changed against their will. Yes, Khan is a psychopath, but were all of his people the same?"

"Yes!" Jim stood; paced. "They were his crew! His most loyal followers. Letting them go would just lead to more innocent lives being lost."

"Then what's the alternative?" She really wanted to know. "Keep them in those cryotubes forever? Kill them?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what, Jim? Because right now the solution seems to be to cart them from outpost to outpost until their cryotubes fail and they die. You don't believe in no–win scenarios: what's the solution here?"

Jim stared at her. After a moment, he started to laugh.

A strange, almost hysterical, dry laugh.

"I don't know," Jim threw up his hands; sat on the bench across from her. "I don't know the answer. I just know that Starfleet...that _we_ have to be better than...than the monster that killed your fiancee...and probably killed my best friend."

Christine cringed.

This argument had gone too far...

Christine looked––really looked––at Jim for the first time since she came onboard. Pavel was right. This was a different man than she had known at the Academy. He had a different perspective on the world. One that came from surviving outstanding odds, but knowing that not everyone else had. An idealism that humanity could become better than what they are...even if they weren't there yet.

A man who was afraid he'd never see his best friend again...

"I'm sorry Jim," Christine said. "I got carried away. My time on the Vulcan outpost...I had nothing to do but think, and monitor those Augments. I just––"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Christine," Jim waived her off. "All you've done is offer me some valid questions. I'm the one who's losing it."

Christine frowned. "I don't think you're losing it, Jim. You're just stressed. And ticked off. And afraid."

"You can go ahead and tack on 'confused' and 'rebellious' to that list, doc," Jim huffed. "You know, it's nice to talk to someone who's not trying to spare my feelings."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "What about Commander Spock?"

Jim laughed. "Spock's a great friend, but that man is so...so _paranoid_ about regulations. A little insubordination would be good for him...God, I miss Bones. He'd call me out in front of the entire ship if I so much as forgot to eat my broccoli..."

Christine smiled. "I did that to Roger once. Spinach is hard to come by on the outpost. You should've seen his face turn red…"

The captain leaned back against the wall; looked at the ceiling. Christine could hear the tension in his breath.

"Remember when the biggest problems we had were term papers and bad dates?"

She nodded. "A lot's changed, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Jim smirked. "I mean, we're both still drop–dead gorgeous; but now you're a badass doctor with a shady past, and I'm a secret accidental Augment who's been given way too much power."

Christine had to laugh.

No, James T. Kirk hadn't changed much after all.


	18. Chapter 18

"Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. Captive's log number eight. Stardate 2261.114."

Leonard stretched on his biobed, letting his left foot dangle off the edge. He'd found this was a good way to keep that damn shackle from digging into his ankle.

The dictation feature on the PADD was a nice change of pace. It gave the doctor an excuse to talk to himself without feeling like he was losing his mind. Which would be easy to do, given that a sadist had been actively trying to make him snap for the past...

"It has been sixteen days since the terrorist asshole Khan Noonien Singh abducted me from my ship."

He wondered where his friends were now; hoped Jim was doing okay. That kid didn't need any more people leaving him...

"Ya know, if Khan had any decency, he'd at least give me a book. If I'm gonna be stuck in this hell for the rest of my life...I'd like to have somethin' to do. These interminable stretches of pure nothing are almost worse than the actual torture..."

Leonard frowned; paused the dictation; deleted the last sentence.

If Khan read his journal...It was best not to give the psychopath any ideas.

The doctor resumed the dictation.

"I spot–cleaned the blood stains on my pants again today...I think I'd feel a heckuva lot better if Khan'd let me off this damn chain long enough to put on a new pair. They're just sittin' there, next to the shirts. Taunting me."

All clean, and new, and not smelling like four–day–old blood…

God, his pants were disgusting.

He needed to force his mind onto something else, before the idea of trotting around in his boxers moved from a stupid joke to a reality…

"In other non–news, Khan still won't drop the damn pet thing." Leonard sighed. "I _know_ he's just doin' it ta screw with my head...Doesn't stop it from workin'...Last night, he tried to decide which breed of dog I'm most like. The current favorite's somethin' called a Puli, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

It obviously wasn't a compliment.

"I'm fighting him on it whenever I feel I can...but damn, that man hits hard."

Leonard shifted; winced. He should probably check himself out again...but he already knew what he'd find.

"I'm gonna try to stop healin' my bruises with the dermal regenerator...Khan seems to be takin' their disappearance as an invitation to make more."

He'd still use it on anything that could scar. There were too many of those injuries.

Leonard stared at the ceiling. It had 240 rust–encrusted panels. Obviously some parts of this old as dirt ship were disintegrating. The doctor had no idea how Khan planned to fix it all on his own, or really why he was bothering. There were better ships out there.

"Still hoping for a Starfleet rescue team to pop through the door any minute. It's a long shot, but I know Jim won't..."

He paused the dictation again.

The more Leonard could distance himself from his friends, the less likely Khan was to threaten them. If anything happened to them now...

"I know Captain Kirk won't give up on me. He never gives up on anyone, even if they deserve it..."

Pause. Delete. Resume.

"He never gives up on anyone in his crew...I just hope that nobody gets hurt in the search. Saving me isn't worth losing more people. Especially now that–"

The distinct hiss of the door opening sent Leonard scrambling to hide the PADD. If he was fast enough––

"What are you doing, doctor?"

Leonard stopped; cringed.

Dammit.

The doctor sat up; looked at Khan; blinked. The killer was wearing a red Starfleet uniform.

Leonard didn't know why Khan had stopped wearing black clothing for the past couple days, although he was pretty sure it was some weird new way to mess with him.

But, the shirt didn't seem to have a drop of blood on it...at least that he could see...

And Khan'd brought lunch.

The doctor didn't want either of those things to change.

"I was writing," Leonard said. "Nothin' special. Just keeps me busy."

Khan tilted his head. "If it is nothing, then why did you try to hide it from me?"

Leonard shrugged. "Can't I have a hobby?"

Khan strode toward him; held out his left hand; gestured for the doctor to give him the PADD.

With a deep sigh, Leonard complied.

Khan smiled. "Good doctor."

Khan handed him his lunch: a small apple, some kind of jerky, and a chocolate nutrition bar.

He'd had worse.

Leonard unwrapped the jerky; watched nervously as Khan began to read.

"Horatio," Khan noted. "Your parents must have enjoyed the classics."

"...Yeah."

Leonard bit off a chunk of jerky.

He just wanted to eat in peace...

"'Terrorist asshole,'" Khan tisked. "Not a very original insult, doctor."

The doctor grimaced.

This wasn't going to end well…

"You weren't supposed to see it, so…"

Khan chuckled. "I suppose I should feel flattered that you reserve your quality insults for my company."

Oh. Okay...

"...Sounds like a plan."

Khan went back to reading.

Leonard started on the apple. He didn't get fresh fruit every day; it tasted delicious.

"This is quite insightful, doctor." Khan remarked. "I see that you have made previous entries. Are they more of the same?"

He swallowed another bite of apple. "...Pretty much."

"Well then," Khan set the PADD next to Leonard on the biobed. "I am glad to see you have found a way to keep yourself entertained."

Leonard stared.

"You…You're not mad?"

Khan shook his head.

"On the contrary, doctor. Physicians are only as good as their hands and their mind; and the mind needs to remain active to be an effective tool. I have not provided you with many opportunities to alleviate your boredom, although there are some alternative avenues that I have been considering."

Leonard's stomach clenched. He didn't like the sound of those "alternative avenues…"

The killer must've noticed his anxiety.

"I assure you, doctor, most of my ideas are not painful. That would defeat their purpose."

The doctor wanted to relax, but couldn't.

Something was really, really off about...all of this.

"So, what's the other shoe?" Leonard blurted.

Khan raised an eyebrow; smirked.

Not the best sign…

"What do you mean?"

Don't kill the killer's good mood. Don't kill––

"You're being too nice." Shut up, Leonard! "The last time you acted like this, you were torturing someone to death. So why don't you stop toying with me and tell me whatever it is you're gearin' up ta hit me with?"

Khan moved closer; loomed over the biobed. Leonard clutched what was left of his lunch.

Idiot idiot idiot idiot...

"Very well, doctor," Khan grinned. "I want to inform you that I have solved your ethical quandary."

...What?

"I...I don't understand."

"It seemed to be the least I could do," the killer said. "Saving my life could not have been an easy decision, even if it also saved your own. It occurred to me that an appropriate display of gratitude might be to make that decision simpler for you in the future."

Once again, Leonard did not like where this was heading…

"If…" Leonard swallowed. "If you wanna show gratitude...just stop butchering everybody you meet."

The doctor was really beginning to hate Khan's chuckle.

"The sentiment you show for people you have never met is endearing, doctor. Even if it exemplifies your weakness."

Leonard bristled at the taunt. "I'm not weak."

Khan leaned in. Leonard fought the urge to shrink back; failed.

"You are weak, doctor," The mirth in Khan's eyes was nauseating. "Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. A touch can bruise you. A little pain, and you submit. An inkling of real fear, and you weep on the floor, begging like a dog. Just like you did four days ago."

Leonard swallowed; closed his eyes.

It wasn't that simple.

Usually when Leonard saved someone's life, they didn't come at him with "I'm going to skin you alive with my bare hands" eyes moments after waking up.

He still saw those eyes sometimes when he slept.

It...It had seemed like a betrayal, as weird as that sounded.

During the surgery, Khan's heart had stopped twice. They had both almost died.

And then, after spending four hours bouncing between repairs to Khan's internal organs and stopping the killer's massive brain hemorrhage; two hours scrubbing blood out of...everything; and staying awake for another six hours to ensure Khan was stable, even though he was exhausted and his blood sugar level was way too low because he was trying to ration his meager food supply...After all that, Khan had attacked him.

...And yes, he'd panicked. And burst into tears.

Not his proudest moment. Not something Leonard ever wanted to repeat…

But it wasn't weakness.

Not that explaining that to Khan would change anything…

"At least I'm not a monster…" Leonard muttered.

Khan grabbed the front of Leonard's shirt. The doctor sucked in a breath; opened his eyes.

The terrorist looked pissed.

"You misunderstand me, doctor," Khan hissed. "I do not kill for fun or pleasure. It is a necessity. To avoid capture. To save my crew from spending the rest of their lives as Starfleet _slaves_. And to accomplish that, I would do almost anything. Do you understand?"

Vigorous nodding seemed like the best response.

Khan sneered. "Good."

The killer released Leonard's shirt, but did not move away.

"That is why, doctor, if you truly do not want more people to die, you had best not hesitate to keep me alive."

Leonard's perpetual frown deepened.

"...What does that mean?"

"It is simple," Khan said. "For the past three days, I have been transporting myself to Earth, disguised as a Starfleet technician. There are now bombs planted at public locations across the planet. Very carefully hidden, I might add."

Leonard's eyes went wide; his mouth fell open.

"Why would you do that?"

"An insurance policy against your conscience, doctor." Khan's smile returned. "Something I should have done from the beginning. The bombs are on a timer that I can reset indefinitely. However, should something prevent me from traveling back to Earth to transmit the reset code at least once a week, they will detonate. If you let me die, doctor, hundreds, if not thousands, will die with me."

Leonard felt the blood draining from his face. Something prickled at the corners of his eyes.

Khan doesn't bluff…

"Please," Leonard said. "Those people are innocent. You don't need to–"

Khan laughed.

"If there is one thing I have learned in my long, long life, doctor, it is that no one is innocent...Not even you."


	19. Chapter 19

The Enterprise was far too late.

Jim had known it before his ship dropped out of warp. If Khan had attacked this facility days before, then there was nothing they could do to help. They could only collect the dead...

Those thoughts wouldn't help anyone either.

Jim sat up straight in the command chair, trying to look the epitome of a proper Starfleet captain. He needed to keep everyone positive, even himself...if he could.

"What's it look like out there, Mister Spock?" Jim asked, turning to his first officer.

Was anyone still alive…?

"The outpost is located on a small moon with minimal atmosphere," Spock said without looking up from his control panel. "It appears that the facility's defensive shield is not functioning. I believe our sensors will be able to determine the cause of this once we are closer."

Well, that wasn't a good sign.

Jim sighed. "Any ships in the area?"

Spock nodded. "There are remnants of a small warp–capable ship approximately twenty kilometers from the facility. It appears to have crash landed."

At an outpost shrouded in as much secrecy as this one had been, a ship like that could mean anything from a botched escape to a failed prototype...

"How about lifesigns?"

"No lifesigns from the ship, Captain," Spock said. "However, I am detecting four lifesigns inside the facility."

"And this place was supposed to have a staff of twenty…" the captain muttered. "Are any of them Augments?"

Spock looked at his readings again. He raised an eyebrow.

"Three, Captain," Spock said. "Three of the four lifesigns are registering as Human Augments."

Jim stared at the Vulcan.

The facility was supposed to have four Augments in cryostasis.

Four. Not three.

"If Khan attacked them, then why are there still Augments down there?" Jim asked. "Isn't the whole point of this rampage to get them back?"

"I do not know, Captain. It does seem...illogical...that he would leave them behind."

The captain closed his eyes.

Was Christine's scan not working properly? Were all four of the people on the moon Augments? Or were none of them Augments?

And if there really were just three Augments down there...then who was Person Number Four?

"Alright…Well then..."

He needed a plan.

One that accounted for as many contingencies as possible.

Jim opened his eyes; pressed the comm button on his chair.

"Bridge to Mister Scott?"

The engineer's voice came through the speaker.

"Aye, Captain?"

"We've reached the facility that sent out a distress call…" Jim said. "Right now it looks like there's four people alive down there. Three of them are Augments."

"Hells bells...What's the plan, sir?"

Well, he'd be open to suggestions.

"I need you to get to the transporter room...I'll let you know more in a minute."

"Aye sir…"

The comm cut out.

"Captain," Spock called out. "Do you think it is wise to use the transporters? If this is another trap set by Khan, then lowering our shields to use the transporters could put the entire crew in jeopardy."

Oh. Right.

...But what else could they do?

"I am aware that it's a risk, Spock," Jim said. "But if we send a team down in a shuttle, and the Augments _are_ awake and armed, our people become fish in a barrel."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not understand why fish would be placed into a barrel. Is it an Earth metaphor?"

Jim rolled his eyes.

"Yep." He really didn't have time to explain this. "I just meant...it still might be safer to risk the transporters."

"But Captain–"

"Please Spock," Jim interrupted. "Look, I know it's not the best plan. But if we just let a shuttle out, we still have to lower the shields for a couple seconds. Khan could transport in, or slip a bomb in, with either approach. If you've got a solution that doesn't involve the transporters or a shuttle, then I'm all ears."

Spock said nothing.

Jim really wished he would. The captain's whole plan so far was: "Beam the Augments to the brigg without being blown up or getting anyone maimed or killed, and figure out who Person Number Four was before beaming them anywhere."

There were a few flaws in that plan.

He needed to make it better.

Jim pressed the comm button again. "Bridge to the medbay."

"Doctor M'Benga here, Captain. What do you need?"

"We're about to contact a facility that Khan may have attacked," Jim said. "We're detecting one human lifesign and three Augments. We have no idea whether they are awake or not, or why they are still here. I need you and your team to be ready for any outcome, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great...And is Doctor Chapel there? I'd like to ask her a few questions."

"Yes, sir. One moment..."

"Thanks."

There was a pause, and then:

"Chapel here. What do you need, Captain?"

"I need to know if anything can knock out Augments from a distance. Let's say: via a transporter."

There was silence from the doctor's line.

Maybe he should have asked on a private channel…

Well, too late now.

"Um," Jim said. "Christine? I kinda need an answer."

"I'm thinking, Jim…" The pause lasted a moment longer. "Okay. Augments are resilient. They can withstand phaser fire that would flatten any normal human. Even if it does knock them out, it's not for more than a couple minutes."

"I know that, Christine," Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache.

"Yes, I know you do, Captain," Christine sounded annoyed. "What I was going to say next is that general anesthesia works far longer than a phaser blast. If we could convert some general anesthesia into an aerosol, then we could knock them out without having to get close. It won't last for more than ten minutes, but once they're onboard we can put them into medically induced comas."

"And you're sure that you can keep them under once they're here?" Jim asked.

"...It's how we took blood samples from Khan."

Ah. Right…

"One more problem, Christine: we think there's a non–augmented human down be a sensor glitch; might be a hostage. We're not sure. Could the amount of anesthesia required to knock out the Augments hurt that person?"

"No, but you would still need to get that person out of there first. The anesthesia could take a minute to work…"

"Which would give the Augments time to kill a hostage..." Jim muttered. "Thank you, doctor. See what you can come up with. Coordinate with Lieutenant Cup...Lieutenant Hendorff, and his security team. They probably have a way to aerosolize the drug."

"Yes, sir."

Jim paused. They couldn't do anything else until they knew...

"Lieutenant Uhura, try to make contact with the facility. We need to know what's happening down there."

"Yes, Captain," Uhura said. "I would like to note that the distress signal is still being sent out. Whoever is down there either does not want to turn it off, or doesn't know how."

Well that didn't make this feel like any less of a trap…

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Jim leaned back in his chair. They had to be ready for anything…

"I think I've got them, Captain," Uhura called.

Jim nodded. "Onscreen."

The viewscreen blinked on.

Jim clenched his jaw.

A young man in Command gold stared back at him with haunted eyes. The uniform was torn at the seams. Bruises blanketed the man's features. He was cradling his right hand against his chest. Two of his fingers looked...awful.

Three figures stood behind him. Two men and one woman, all clad in grey Starfleet prisoner jumpsuits speckled with rusty stains. The man in the center had a hand wrapped around the back of the officer's neck.

Yep. Worst case scenarios, here they come...

"There…" The young man gestured to the screen with his good hand. "You're connected…"

"Move."

The man holding the officer pushed him out of the chair and forced him to kneel on the floor. He didn't let go of the officer's neck…

The man sat in the chair; glared at Jim.

"Who are you?"

"Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise," Jim said. "Please identify yourself."

"My name is Joaquin Weiss. Personal guard to the Great Khan Noonien Singh."

Well, that was just...great…

The captain's hostage negotiation training started to kick in.

Keep things light. Don't antagonize them.

"Nice to meet you, Joaquin," Jim tried to smirk, but didn't think he made it. "Who are your friends?"

The Augments just stared.

Jim stared back. "Guys, we can't work this out if you're not willing to talk."

The Augments looked at each other; nodded.

"Harulf Ericsson and Zuleika Walker," Joaquin said. "Followers of a great man...Your people have unjustly imprisoned us here for some time."

"I see…" Jim replied. What a load of…"And who is that on the floor?"

Joaquin glanced at the officer.

"One of our captors," he sneered. "We found him locked in a cell near our own, after we fought off the impostor who attacked this place."

Jim blinked.

What did they mean by impostor?

He gave Spock a confused look. The Vulcan's eyebrow was raised.

Something weird was going on here...

The captain turned back to the screen.

"Coming back to that later…" Jim muttered. "Would you mind if I asked him his name?"

Joaquin frowned. "Why does it matter?"

"I'd like to know everyone I'm dealing with over there."

The Augment considered this; dragged the officer closer to the screen.

The young man whimpered in pain.

Joaquin was starting to piss Jim off.

...Be calm; reassuring.

Humanize the hostage…

The captain noticed a thin gold band on the officer's sleeve.

"What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"...Alvin Kim."

"Hey Alvin," Jim smiled. "It's gonna be okay. You're going home soon."

At least, Jim hoped so…

"Where's home for you, Alvin?"

"...Pelion, South Carolina."

Of course, he had to be from the South...

"Really?" Jim said. "South Carolina? I've...got a friend from Georgia. He can be a bit of a grouch, but–"

"Enough!" Joaquin shoved Alvin aside. "We want free passage out of this facility. If you want... _Alvin_...to live, then you have thirty minutes to supply us with a vessel capable of leaving this place. We will release him once we are safely away."

Jim frowned.

The fact that the Augments had needed Alvin to open a comm channel for them was not lost on him.

What could "safely away" possibly mean to three people who seemed to have no idea how to operate a modern communications panel, let alone a spaceship?

"Okay…" Jim said. "Counter offer: let Alvin go, now, and we won't leave you here to rot."

Joaquin glowered; moved closer to the screen.

" _Twenty_ minutes," he growled. "Or I will torture this man to death. Goodbye."

The Augment slammed his hand down on the control panel.

Nothing happened.

Joaquin looked at it; then at Jim; then at Alvin.

"Turn it off!" Joaquin shouted; pushed Alvin toward the panel.

After an awkward moment of fumbling from the terrified Lieutenant, the channel cut out.

The captain noticed Chekov and Sulu looking at him. Their confused expressions pretty much matched what was going on in his head.

"Well," Jim said. "That...left me with a lot more questions than I had going in."

The captain pressed the comm button.

"Kirk to Doctor Chapel."

"Yes, Jim?"

"Is Hendorff with you?"

"Yes sir," Hendorff replied. "I'm here. We've got the anesthesia gas thing figured out. What do you need us to do?"

Jim thought for a moment. Alvin...that poor kid from South Carolina...Was he telling the truth? He sure seemed to be... But what if Chapel's scans were calibrated incorrectly? Was he another Augment? What if this whole thing was a ploy to Trojan Horse one of their own onto the Enterprise?

There were a lot of variables…

But only one real plan.

"I need you both to meet Scotty in the transporter room," Jim ordered. "Bring the gas, and some of the emergency medical staff. Also, take at least ten security officers with you; more if you can. Move fast. We don't have a lot of time."

If the plan in Jim's head was going to work at all, then they only had one shot to get it right.


	20. Chapter 20

During his first year out of the Academy, Alvin Kim had imagined many ways that his career in Starfleet could be cut short.

Being killed in war with the Klingon Empire was the way he would've put money on for a while. Then the Klingons went to war with the Romulans instead; both sides were pretty much leaving the Federation alone now.

Some weird space disease was another top contender. There had to be a lot out there that Starfleet doctors didn't know existed, let alone how to treat.

A few months after Alvin was assigned to a secluded, top–secret outpost, his mind shifted to less deadly reasons to end his career. Like living somewhere with a little privacy. Or being able to go for a walk in a forest. Or starting a family.

There were a lot of ways Alvin could've seen his time in space coming to an end.

Being killed by centuries–old superhumans after a botched hostage negotiation had never, ever, made that list.

Alvin sat on the floor, slumped against the command center's back wall. His captors had finally let him sit down again, but he didn't dare rest...even if his throbbing hand would let him.

Instead, the lieutenant stared across the room at the communications panel. Alvin didn't know exactly what would happen when Joaquin's deadline ran out, but he did know that his only chance of surviving the next few minutes depended on that single piece of technology.

"What are they waiting for?!"

Alvin cringed; willed himself to melt into the wall. The furious shout came from his most unpredictable captor, Joaquin, who paced the room like a caged coyote. The man could go from laughing at some twisted joke to murderous rage in a nanosecond.

Alvin had no doubt that Joaquin would follow through on his threat to...torture him to death...if the Captain Kirk didn't give the Augments what they wanted. He'd already come close to it once before, when they'd found him in that cell...

And, given the threat these people were to the Federation...

He just hoped one of the others would step in and make it quick.

Although the odds of that were not very high.

"Calm down, Joaquin." Zuleika fiddled with a phaser near the door.

She seemed to find the stun setting hilarious. Alvin had lost track of the number of times she'd pointed that thing at him and…

He really didn't appreciate her sense of humor.

Joaquin stopped pacing and turned to Zuleika.

"It's been fifteen minutes!" Joaquin growled. "We shouldn't have given them this much time! There's probably an army about to descend upon us!"

"And if there is," Zuleika smirked. "We'll handle it. There's only one way in and out of this room, and it's through this door. If an army tries to come through there, we will slaughter them. Simple as that."

A laugh came from the command desk. Harulf swiveled around in his chair, playing with a blood stained knife, as the other Augments turned to him.

"Simple as that?" Harulf said. "Zuleika, these people have mastered the stars. Their technology is beyond anything we could have dreamed of. We are barely beginning to understand how to use it. How do we know they cannot walk through walls, or simply bombard us from space?"

"Exactly!" Joaquin shouted. "A few bombs dropped on us, and they never have to worry about us again. It's what I would do."

"But you're forgetting," Zuleika said. "We have one of their officers. They want him back. They bombard us, and he dies as well. If they are going to attack, they will have to do it the old–fashioned way. Our way."

Harulf rolled his eyes. "Be realistic. We may be genetically superior to these people, but our psychology is not that far removed from theirs. If you had three dirty bombs threatening a nation that you controlled, but eliminating that threat would also unavoidably kill a useful subordinate, would you do it?"

"Of course." Joaquin nodded.

Zuleika's smile faded. "In a heartbeat. Subordinates can be replaced, no matter how useful they might appear. Allowing the bombs to go off and kill many others to save that one life would make my people hate me, which could lead to an uprising."

"Exactly," Harulf shook his head. "And in this situation, we are the bombs. These people have imprisoned us; interrogated us. Lieutenant Kim is already collateral damage, and they know it."

Joaquin glared. "If that's the case, then why are we not already dead?"

"Maybe the ship doesn't have the firepower?" Zuleika suggested. "A captain of a fishing boat is still a captain. How do we know this Enterprise is even powerful enough to be a threat?"

Harulf smiled. "Why don't we ask our friend? Lieutenant?"

Alvin's heart pounded as the three Augments looked at him. His eyes widened as they converged, pleading for them to just leave him alone.

...Like that had ever worked.

Joaquin reached Alvin first; grabbed him by the throat.

"Can this _Enterprise_ destroy us from orbit?"

Alvin nodded vigorously. "Th–The Enterprise is one of the most advanced ships in Starfleet. Its defensive weapons could easily destroy this entire facility."

" _Defensive_ weapons? What is that supposed to mean?"

Joaquin raised a fist.

"It's an exploration ship," Alvin blurted. "Looking for new life; new civilizations...conducting scientific research, and diplomatic and humanitarian missions. It can hold its own in a fight with any ship out there, but Captain Kirk would only use those capabilities as a last resort."

"So this Captain Kirk is soft." Joaquin sneered. "A blustering coward commanding a bunch of scientists and philosophers, too afraid to strike."

"Not necessarily," Harulf noted.

The Augment put a hand on Joaquin's shoulder; tilted his head. Joaquin glared, but released Alvin's neck and moved away. Harulf crouched in front of the lieutenant. The glint of the man's knife caught Alvin's eye...

"This captain seems very young to command the most advanced ship in your fleet. Tell us, Lieutenant: how did Kirk become captain of this...exploration ship?"

Alvin swallowed. They wouldn't believe him. They barely believed in aliens, even though they'd seen the body of his Vulcan crewmate…

...His crew was dead...

Harulf sighed; gestured with the blade. "Zuleika, how about another demonstration of that stun setting?"

She grinned; raised the phaser.

"No!" Alvin recoiled.

Not again...He couldn't do it again...

"He saved the Earth!" Alvin said. "There was an attack. Vulcan, the home planet of one of our allies, was destroyed...along with a large part of our fleet. The Enterprise's captain was captured; and the first officer was...Kirk had to take over. He rescued his injured captain, led his crew to victory, and stopped what happened to Vulcan from happening to Earth. He's a hero…"

Captain Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise were an inspiration to a lot of people in Starfleet. Seeing that man through the viewscreen had given Alvin the first glimmer of hope he'd had in days. If anyone was going to get him out of this alive...it'd be the Enterprise.

"A hero," Harulf repeated. "One that saved the entire Earth...Thank you, Lieutenant. It is good to know more about our enemy."

The Augment lightly patted Alvin's cheek; rose; turned away.

"I think you had better let me talk to the captain this time, Joaquin," Harulf said. "A man that saves the world, and then settles for a meager promotion instead of the accolades such an accomplishment truly deserves...He is either a fool, or a genius. Establishing a legacy that will make him immortal...Brute force will not work on a man like Kirk. We need a tactician's mind to negotiate with this––."

"Absolutely not!" Joaquin shouted. "You are _not_ in charge here, Harulf, no matter how much you want to be. I am Khan Noonien Singh's personal guard. I will lead in his absence."

"Joaquin, we don't even know if Khan is alive," Zuleika interjected. "Harulf is right. We cannot risk being left on this godforsaken rock because you cannot control your temper."

"Khan _is_ alive," Joaquin growled. "Just because there's an impostor running around using his name...that does not mean he's dead. He's probably imprisoned somewhere, just like us, and we need a ship if we are going to rescue him."

"Then we should use my plan," Zuleika insisted. "When they call back, we tell them that we are going to surrender peacefully. Wait for them to land a ship to arrest us, and then ambush them. We have plenty of firepower. If a few of them survive with minimal injuries, we can force them to pilot the ship for us until we learn how to do it ourselves. If not, then our toy over there gets to live a little longer. It's our best option."

"It won't work!" Joaquin bellowed. "I know security. No guard worth his salt will ever fall for such an obvious ruse."

Alvin watched the argument in silence. These arguments had been going on for days before the Enterprise's arrival. If only they would get into an argument so big that…

The communications panel started to flash.

"You may be good at threats, Joaquin," Harulf smirked. "However, your temper could render our only leverage moot."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"If this Kirk is anything like I believe him to be , he will not back down in the face of your temper tantrums. And if you actually kill Lieutenant Kim, Kirk will leave us here, as he has threatened to do already."

"Boys," Zuleika said calmly.

"What?" Joaquin snapped.

She pointed at the communications panel. The other Augments turned to it.

"They're calling…" Zuleika said. "We need to make a decision. Now."

"I'm talking to them." Joaquin said firmly. "I talked to them before. I have already established myself as the leader in their eyes."

Harulf threw up his hands. "Very well. But if you cannot keep calm––"

"I'll keep calm!" Joaquin screamed.

The angry Augment rushed to Alvin; dragged him to the communications panel. Joaquin's hand wrapped around the back of Alvin's neck again; squeezed.

Alvin shrunk from the grip, but couldn't get away. He had no idea why Joaquin liked to do that, but it hurt and he hated it.

…Unfortunately, Alvin realized that was actually a decent summary of the past few days of his life...

"Connect us."

Alvin reached out to the control panel with his good hand and answered the Enterprise's hail. Captain Kirk appeared on the screen.

"Hey Alvin," Kirk smiled warmly. "Good to see ya. Are you okay?"

Before Alvin could answer, Joaquin pulled him away; forced him onto his knees.

"He's fine," Joaquin said. "No worse than the last time you saw him. Are you sending a ship?"

The captain's smile faded. "Are you going to let Alvin go? Now?"

"We already told you: we will release our hostage once we are safely away."

"I'd prefer now, if it's all the same to you."

Joaquin seethed. "It is _not_ all the same to me. You people kept us here against our will, and now that we have one of your own, you want to take the moral high ground? Unacceptable. He is staying with us for...now."

Alvin closed his eyes. He had to trust that Captain Kirk would get him out of this...

"I see…" Kirk sighed. "Well then...it looks like we've reached an impasse. Goodbye."

...What?

Alvin's eyes flew open. He stared at Kirk. The man's expression was unreadable.

Joaquin's grip slackened. "...What?"

Kirk threw up his hands. "Well, if you're not going to let Alvin go, and if I won't give you a ship until that happens...and I won't...then I'm taking _my_ ship and leaving. Looks like you're stuck out here."

No. No no no no…

"You really expect me to believe that you are just going to leave us here?" Joaquin laughed. "You're going to break poor Alvin's heart. He's been telling us what a great man you are. He thinks you're a hero."

"I'm flattered," Kirk said. "But Lieutenant Kim must remember his Starfleet handbook. Section 6C of the handbook details the duties of a captured Starfleet officer. 'The needs of the many' and all that jazz."

Alvin couldn't believe this. He was being thrown to the wolves by…

Wait.

Section 6 was survival training. Section 6C, specifically, was about…

Oh.

"I told you, Joaquin," Harulf scolded. "I told you we needed me to be in control. Now we're going to be left––"

"Shut up, Harulf!" Joaquin snapped.

"Trouble in paradise?" Kirk asked. "You know, if somebody else over there was willing to let Alvin go, then I'd be more than happy to stick around until––"

"Enough!"

Joaquin's grip on Alvin's neck tightened again; Alvin winced.

He wasn't a good actor. He couldn't possibly pull off...

"Is that your plan, captain?" Joaquin hissed. "Turn us against each other?"

"Not exactly," Kirk shrugged. "Although, if it works, I'd be okay with it. If anybody wants to get off that moon, then they'd better act fast."

Was that a signal? Did _he_ need to act fast? The only thing that could possibly make him actually do what he thought Kirk wanted him to do would be to...

"No one here is going to surrender to a scrawny child like you." Joaquin declared. "If you want Alvin alive, then you had better stop––"

Screw it. What other option did he have?

Alvin grimaced, then let his injured hand slam onto the control panel.

His vision greyed out from the pain. He swayed; went boneless…

"What the hell?"

Joaquin shook him. Alvin stayed limp; let himself veer towards unconsciousness.

The Augment let go of his neck, and Alvin crumpled to the floor, groaning.

He'd better of read this right...

"It looks like Alvin needs immediate medical attention," Kirk's voice floated through the air above him. "Surrender now, or you will need it as well."

"If you want us so badly, then come and get us!"

"Why do you think I kept you talking in circles for so long? My security team should be bursting through the ceiling right about...NOW!"

Alvin heard the Augments dive for cover from the impending attack. He was left, forgotten, by the control panel.

The lieutenant opened his eyes just in time to see white lights surrounding him. He heard Zuleika shout in surprise; saw her point the phaser at him.

Alvin blinked, and found himself on a transporter pad, surrounded by a ring of phasers.

"He's clear!" A woman's voice called out. "The scans were accurate. He's not an Augment."

The phasers fell away. Gentle hands lifted him off the pad and onto a stretcher. Voices floated around him.

"Get that canister on the pad. We've got to knock those Augments out!"

"Aye, laddie. We'll make it work. Just a second more and...There! The gas is being disbursed. We make a good team, Lieutenant Cupcake!"

"I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Chapel to Doctor M'Benga: your patient is on his way. I'm staying here to make sure the Augments are properly incapacitated."

"Acknowledged. We'll be waiting for him."

Somebody shoved a hypo into his neck, and his body went blessedly numb.

Alvin smiled as he realized three things.

First: his nightmare was over.

Second: he was going home.

And finally...

"Section 6C," Alvin muttered to himself with a grin. "...Bear attacks."

...Captain Kirk was absolutely insane in the best possible way.


	21. Chapter 21

Doctor McCoy was having a nightmare.

Khan stood in the doorway; listened to the doctor's shallow, panicked breaths. Even with only the dim light from the hall illuminating the room, he could see a shean of sweat on the man's brow.

He should turn on the light; wake McCoy. They had work to do...

But it was fascinating. The scowl McCoy wore while awake was completely gone: a defense mechanism the man could not maintain while unconscious. The difference, although only slight in reality, made the doctor seem far younger; far weaker.

Far, far closer to breaking...

"Please…" McCoy whispered. "Please...stop…"

Khan huffed in amusement. Even in his sleep, the doctor was begging.

And the man dared claim he was not weak.

McCoy's hands clenched fistfuls of his blanket.

"Leave them alone…"

Khan raised an eyebrow.

 _Them_?

...He was begging for others.

It seemed McCoy's pleas were less cowardice than they were compassion. Perhaps he was processing his fear for those Khan threatened to bomb the day before...Or for his crew, whom Khan threatened to slaughter as well.

Weakness still...but of a more respectable caliber.

Khan glanced at the PADD, thermos and nutrition bar in his hands. It was early; far earlier than when Khan usually brought McCoy his breakfast. But the night before, he had come to a decision.

The doctor's breath hitched; his face contorted.

"Joanna…" McCoy whimpered. "God, no..."

A woman's name. Interesting.

Were these fits a nightly occurrence? Under the circumstances, it would not be surprising. What could he learn about his captive if he...

As tempting as the idea was, they needed to get to work.

Khan turned on the light.

McCoy gasped; bolted upright; kicked his blanket off the bed in panic. Brown, disoriented eyes scanned the room; focused in on Khan. Recognition returned; McCoy's scowl fell back into place.

Khan stepped into the room. "Good morning, doctor."

"Mornin'," McCoy grumbled; rubbed his eyes. His breathing returned to its normal slow, tense rhythm.

"My apologies for alarming you."

"...Not a problem."

The doctor ran a hand through his unkempt hair; smoothed back the worst of its awkward angles.

...Had he provided McCoy with a comb?

If not, the doctor had yet to complain...There were so many small details involved in properly caring for a captive. Even he was bound to miss a few things.

Khan crossed to McCoy's biobed.

"I brought you something special for breakfast," Khan held out the thermos. "I believe you will like it."

McCoy narrowed his eyes, predictably suspicious.

"...Thank you…"

He took the thermos; opened it; sniffed. The doctor looked up, surprised.

"Coffee?"

Khan nodded. "It appears, where caffeine is concerned, Starfleet likes to keep their bases supplied in abundance. I have barrels of coffee in storage. Given my plans for today, I believe it is something you will wish to have in your system."

Apprehension flashed across the doctor's face.

"...What're ya gonna do?"

Khan huffed. He could see how McCoy might misinterpret that statement. The doctor had obviously been noticing patterns in Khan's behavior. A beneficial survival skill, even if it could lead to paranoia.

"Do not worry, doctor. I have no intention of harming anyone today...unless you are feeling rebellious?"

The doctor sighed; shook his head.

"No, I just...no."

Khan smiled; tossed the nutrition bar onto McCoy's bed and stepped away.

"Enjoy."

McCoy took a sip. For a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile.

"It's good coffee," the doctor muttered. "...Thanks."

"You are welcome, doctor."

As McCoy ate his breakfast, Khan studied him. He noted the dark circles under the doctor's eyes; the half-healed bruises splotching his skin; the blood stains on the man's pants.

McCoy's journal had alerted him to that...unfortunate...oversight.

Perhaps, in some ways, he had gone too far. The doctor might have feared alerting Khan to the issue would result in another beating. Regardless, the remedy for such an unsanitary situation was simple; Khan planned to oblige the doctor on the matter.

...But what else might McCoy be neglecting to tell him?

"Doctor," Khan said. "How is your health faring?"

The doctor's eyes glanced up at him; back down to his food.

"Fine."

He took a bite of the nutrition bar.

Khan frowned. "I would like a little more information than just 'fine,' doctor."

McCoy glared into the thermos.

"It's as fine as can be expected when somebody's breakin' my ribs every other day...I'm not about ta drop dead, if yer worried about havin' to find a new doctor."

"I see."

If the doctor did not wish to discuss his health...very well.

"And who is Joanna?"

McCoy choked on his coffee.

"Wh...What?"

"When I arrived this morning, you were in the throes of a nightmare. You called out for someone named Joanna. Who is she?"

The emotions that crossed the doctor's face were fascinating. Was the woman a friend? A spouse? The man's file had not listed any family, however Khan knew Starfleet often withheld familial information from offworld databases. One never knew when a personnel file could fall into enemy hands and...be used as Khan would have used such information.

"...She was a patient," McCoy said stiffly. "Before I joined Starfleet...A little girl. Eleven. Sweetest smile in the universe. Loved dirt bikes and horses...She caught somethin' I'd never seen before. That nobody'd ever seen before...There was nothin' I could do."

Khan raised an eyebrow. He could not tell if the man was lying. The pain in his eyes appeared genuine...yet something about the answer seemed false.

"Her death had quite an impact on you."

McCoy stared into his drink. "Some cases hit ya harder than others…Losin' her...that wasn't easy."

That statement, at least, rang true.

"You seem to care deeply for your patients," Khan noted.

The doctor shrugged. "Yeah, well...when they're not holdin' me prisoner and threatening to kill everyone I...it's easy ta get attached."

Khan smirked. "I suppose that does make a difference, doesn't it?"

"...Yeah. A pretty damn big one."

For the sake of a productive day, Khan ignored that comment. He glanced at the PADD in his hand. The internal clock read 06:23. It was time to begin.

"Finish your breakfast," Khan ordered. "I have a few tasks for you today."

The doctor eyed him nervously. "What kind of tasks?"

"The kind which should alleviate some of your boredom," Khan pointed at the floor. "Off the bed."

After a moment of hesitation, McCoy tilted back the thermos; downed the last of the coffee. His chain pooled by his left foot as he stood.

Khan tapped a code into the PADD.

For the first time in seventeen days, the shackle on McCoy's left ankle opened; clattered to the floor; revealed a ring of aggravated skin.

The doctor blinked; looked down; back at Khan with worry in his eyes.

"...Are we goin' somewhere?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," Khan chuckled. "Come without a fight, and I will let you change into a completely new uniform when the day's work is complete...Unless you would rather stay here...and have me confiscate all of your PADDs?"

Without waiting for the doctor's obvious answer, Khan turned and walked out the door. He heard the soft slap of McCoy's bare feet on the floor as the doctor began to follow.

Khan's smile grew.

"Good choice."

They hurried through the dim hallway; past the stasis chambers; past the spot where Khan had beamed them from the Enterprise.

"...Can I ask where we're goin'?"

Khan considered answering McCoy, but elected to ignore the question. The anxiety of not knowing what was going to happen next would undoubtedly make the man build a scenario in his head far worse than the reality...thereby making Khan's actual plan seem more acceptable.

They turned down a new corridor.

Well, new for McCoy. It was a route Khan had taken numerous times before.

When they reached a door at the end of the hallway, Khan paused; turned to McCoy. The doctor stopped a few feet behind him, his nerves evident on his face.

"Do not touch anything unless I tell you to," Khan glared. "Understand?"

McCoy nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

"Good."

Khan opened the door, and stepped into the control room of the Botany Bay.

It was in a bit of disarray. Open panels protruded wires and...ancient...computer components. So much of it had corroded…

"I assume you understand why I brought you here," Khan turned back to McCoy…

The doctor was looking at the large viewing window at the far end of the room.

Khan shook his head; moved quickly to the window. McCoy would be less distracted once his curiosity was satisfied.

"Go on. Take a look."

The doctor made his way through the room; carefully avoided putting his bare feet on the wires and equipment Khan had scattered about.

McCoy pressed a hand against the window; stared out. His face fell.

The moon they were marooned upon orbited a gas giant streaked with reds and browns. To the untrained eye, it would resemble Saturn, however its rings were far thinner. Vortexes swirled and contorted in the planet's atmosphere, so large they could fit the entire Earth in their centers. Nothing human could survive there.

...As nothing human could survive on their moon. Yellow–hued sulfuric sand drifted around them. At one time, the moon must have had a hot core; a series of volcanic eruptions that helped give the moon a slight, highly toxic, atmosphere. But now, it was cold. Lifeless.

"There's no escape, doctor," Khan said. "The only ways off this ship are my personal transporter, and an airlock that leads...well...you have eyes."

McCoy sighed; looked at the floor.

"Wasn't really expectin' an escape route...I just thought we were...Can this ship even fly?"

Khan rolled his eyes. The doctor had a propensity for asking questions with obvious answers.

"Not yet," Khan replied. "Life support, communications, and the engines are...mostly...operational. However, to refit the Botany Bay with Starfleet's far...superior...technologies, I need to rebuild entire systems; create adaptors from scratch. It takes time, even for me."

"Then why do ya bother?" McCoy looked at him. "That's what I don't get. Why not just hijack somethin' modern and avoid the work?"

That...was a much better question. One Khan had asked himself numerous times in the past half month. Yes, his ship had the technologies to revive his crew, but those worked regardless of whether the ship was capable of flight. And, as Starfleet knew the location of the Botany Bay...it was a gamble that the Federation would think the ship so useless that Khan would never return to it. A gamble that, so far, had paid off. But a gamble nonetheless.

However, there were three other factors that made Khan reluctant to abandon both his ship and the system it was located in.

McCoy only needed to know one of those factors.

Khan looked out the window' pointed at the small blue and green crescent, half obscured by the massive gas giant.

"Doctor, do you see that moon?" Khan asked.

"...Yeah."

"According to information I obtained from the Starfleet computers on Xedna Eight, that moon has an almost identical mass to that of Earth. It has an oxygen and nitrogen–based atmosphere. Several small continents; large oceans; plants. No sentient species, as far as Starfleet could tell. But it can support life. Human life."

The doctor gave him a puzzled look. "You're tryin' ta get there? Then why don't ya just beam over?"

Khan smiled. "That, doctor, is the crowning feature of the moon: it has a high magnetic field that distorts transporter signals and long range sensor scans. All research on the moon had to be conducted by shuttles. For Starfleet, such a distortion made the planet an unsuitable place to establish a colony. For my people, however..."

"It'd be perfect," McCoy's eyes widened. "The only way down'd be ta land. Ya'd see ships coming from miles away…"

Khan nodded. "I created plans for many surface–to–space weapons before my first escape. I stumbled upon a prototype for one of those weapons at a Starfleet facility a few days ago, along with...some other interesting technologies. If I can fly my people to that moon, I can defend them. They will be safe from the Federation."

"...And then what?" McCoy frowned. "You're gonna start your own little Utopia? You've only got seventy two crewmates."

Khan glared. "Sixty eight."

"...Okay," the doctor swallowed. "Sixty eight. Now, even assuming ya've got thirty four men and thirty four women in your crew––"

"Be quiet," Khan growled.

McCoy fell silent; stared out the window.

Khan closed his eyes; sneered.

The man was right. Even if they could tame the moon, the Augment population was too small to sustain a colony. Their superior genetics would not be enough to prevent defects from appearing within a few generations.

...Perhaps that was a problem he could compel McCoy to address, given the proper encouragement.

But for now...

"If we cannot make this ship fly, then that issue is moot," Khan said. "We must work faster."

McCoy's head snapped to him.

"We?"

Despite his aggravation, Khan could not help but be amused at the man's shock.

He turned to McCoy.

"You are going to help me with my repairs."

The doctor's mouth dropped.

"But I'm a doctor, not an engineer!" McCoy balked. "I don't know the first thing about makin' a three hundred year old ship fly."

Khan crossed his arms; raised an eyebrow.

"Do you mean to tell me that Starfleet Academy did not require you to take a few basic engineering courses?"

McCoy's mouth closed; he looked away.

"...Yeah, they did. But nothin' advanced."

Khan smirked.

Oh, this would be fun.

"Can you strip a wire?"

"...Well, yeah, but––"

"Can you solder and weld?"

"...I learned how, but that was over––"

"Can you use a wrench?"

"Of course I can. That's not the––"

"It is the point, doctor."

Khan flanked McCoy, putting himself between the doctor and the door at the other end of the room. The doctor tensed; spun to face him.

"No one who goes through Starfleet Academy does so without learning the basics of engineering," Khan said flatly. "I need help. You claim to be bored senseless. This is the solution."

McCoy's jaw clenched. A strange sadness filled his eyes.

"If you needed help so badly, then why didn't ya let me save the pilot?"

Ah.

Yes...The pilot.

Well, that had a simple answer.

Khan shrugged. "Because I'd already burned off most of his fingers."

McCoy's skin lost its color.

Khan tilted his head; frowned. Hadn't he...

"And I thought I told you to never mention the pilot again."

In one swift movement, he closed the distance between them; pinned the doctor against the window with one hand; leaned in. McCoy flinched; tried to lean away, but there was nowhere he could go.

Khan grabbed a fistful of the man's hair; brought McCoy's ear to his lips.

"Maybe you are right," he murmured. "You can only help me with rudimentary tasks. Maybe, I should find a highly skilled engineer to work with me. I believe your captain introduced me to one, during our brief alliance. Kirk called him...Scotty?"

The doctor's breath hitched.

Khan smiled. "Yes. That is what he called him. If I remember correctly, the man had a glass jaw, but he did disarm the most advanced Starfleet vessel ever created. What an asset he would be...once I broke him."

He pulled McCoy's head away; forced him to look into his eyes. The doctor's brown eyes shone with the tears he was fighting back.

"Do I need to find him, doctor?"

The doctor blinked; his eyelashes caught the tear.

"No…" McCoy's voice cracked. "Leave 'em alone...I'll...Whaddaya need me to do?"

Khan grinned.

It appeared he had an engineer.


	22. Chapter 22

"I can't talk about it."

Spock raised his eyebrow. He looked from where Lieutenant Kim was sitting on a biobed, and to his captain.

Jim was frowning. "...You can't talk about it?"

The young lieutenant shook his head; looked down.

"No. Not yet…"

Kim was in a much better condition than he had been twenty six hours before. Although still not allowed to leave his bed, his bruises and phaser burns were gone, and the broken fingers on his right hand had been reset and mended.

Doctor M'Benga had informed them that after one more day of observation, the lieutenant would be physically well enough to leave the medbay.

Emotionally, however…

"Alvin, lives are at stake here," Jim insisted. "We need to know exactly what happened on your outpost."

Lieutenant Kim drew his knees to his chest.

"I can't…"

Doctor M'Benga had informed them that initially, the lieutenant had been euphoric about being rescued...But after Kim woke up from surgery, the psychological damage from his traumatic experience began to manifest.

Spock considered this. The man was clearly focusing on the emotional aspects of his captivity. Perhaps providing his mind with crucial facts could persuade him to tell his story...

"Lieutenant," Spock said. "There were two other Federation facilities in this region that did not check in with Starfleet Command upon request. We reached one of those facilities a few hours ago. There were no survivors. The odds are low that there will be survivors at the other base. You are the only person alive who can tell us how this happened."

"No…" Kim began to cry. "Oh god..."

...Apparently not.

The captain crouched next to the lieutenant's biobed; rested his hand on the man's shoulder in what Spock assumed was an attempt to comfort him.

"Alvin," Jim said. "I know you've been through a lot. But trust me: keeping this stuff in now is only going to make it harder for you to deal with later."

"I'm sorry...I'm not…"

Perhaps...Lieutenant Kim needed more motivation...

"Lieutenant," Spock said firmly. "If you cannot supply us with answers, we may be forced to awaken one of the Augments for questioning."

Kim's head shot up at him, horror spreading across his face.

"No!" The lieutenant turned to Jim. "Please, Captain Kirk. Do _not_ wake them up again..."

Jim gave Spock a strange look.

"Don't worry," Jim patted the lieutenant's shoulder. "We're not waking them up. Doctor Chapel's got them under heavy sedation. They're also restrained, and Lieutenant Hendorff and his team are keeping watch, just in case. They're not going anywhere...until we drop them off at Starbase Seven. Sit tight for a minute, okay Alvin? I need to have a word with Commander Spock."

The young lieutenant nodded, and Jim rose.

"Commander?" Jim walked out the medbay door; Spock followed, mildly confused.

"Have I done something wrong, captain?" Spock asked

Jim turned, mouth slightly open.

"Yeah, Spock," Jim huffed. "That kid has PTSD, and you just threatened to wake up one of his attackers! What were you thinking?"

"I thought that some of the panic Lieutenant Kim is experiencing might be assuaged if he understood the consequences of his refusal to help us," Spock replied. "We need to know if Khan truly was the person who attacked these outposts, and if not, who the 'impostor' Joaquin referred to is. There may be a threat to the Federation that we do not know about. Lieutenant Kim likely holds the answer to this question, however if he cannot or will not tell us, then we may in fact be forced to question one of the Augments."

The captain stared at him; sighed.

"You're right...you're also really, really wrong...but you're right. How are we gonna get Alvin to tell us what happened?"

Spock pondered their dilemma. He knew from experience how different Human psychology was from that of Vulcans in many aspects. His childhood and young adult life had been spent reconciling the warring parts of his hybrid brain. Yet, in cases of exceedingly severe emotional trauma, Human and Vulcan brains could behave quite similarly.

This insight forced his mind back to one logical solution...a procedure he had only used a handful of times in his life.

"Captain," Spock said. "With your permission, I would like to ask Lieutenant Kim for his consent to a mind meld."

Jim's eyes went wide.

"Spock, you're a genius. Permission granted...but be careful. I know how jarring those things can be..."

"I will proceed with the utmost care, captain," Spock nodded, and stepped back into the medbay.

Lieutenant Kim had not moved from his hunched position on the biobed. Spock approached him slowly, trying not to scare him.

"Lieutenant," Spock said calmly. "I apologize for frightening you...I understand that you may find yourself incapable of putting words to the events of the past few days...however, given the urgentness of our current situation, I would like to propose an...alternate approach. One that could also ease some of the emotional burden of your trauma."

Kim lifted his head. He looked at Jim, who had come to stand beside Spock.

Something in the captain's demeanour must have reassured the lieutenant. His inflamed eyes softened slightly.

"...What are you thinking?"

"Have you heard of a mind meld?"

Kim frowned, but nodded.

"That is what I propose," Spock said. "A mind meld, focused solely on the events leading to and including your time under the Augments' power...If there is something that you truly do not wish me to see, then I will do my best avoid it. Otherwise...we need to know what happened."

Lieutenant Kim swallowed; sighed.

"I...guess it's worth a try...Do I need to do a ritual or something for this to work?"

Spock slowly sat on the edge of the biobed.

"No," he said. "Just relax. Take deep breaths. Close your eyes."

Kim did as he had instructed.

Spock reached out; touched the sensory points on the lieutenant's face that would facilitate the meld; closed his eyes.

"Try to focus on the sound of my voice…My mind, to your mind...My thoughts, to your thoughts…"

Spock could feel the connection take hold; the sparks of their neural pathways intertwining as he made his way, carefully, into the lieutenant's mind.

 _Numbness. Fear. Humiliation._

The man's emotions flooded into Spock. He steeled himself against them; sent a sensation of calm flowing through the connection.

" _Relax, Lu...Alvin. It is alright. I am here to help."_

" _I'm sorry…"_

" _It is fine. Mind melds can sometimes result in an overflow of emotion from subject to initiate. However, if this meld is to be successful, we need to move past those emotions, and into your memories."_

" _...I don't know where to start…"_

" _Can you tell me who woke the Augments?"_

" _...We did."_

He felt the memory surfacing; reached out to it.

 _An admiral...Admiral Yearling...stepping out of a shuttle in their docking bay. Everyone was surprised by his visit. He barks an order; ignores the Base Commander's objections._

 _Doctors that had arrived with the Admiral wake the Augments; the base's crew watches nervously, fingers on phaser triggers._

" _They wanted to run tests. On...their minds."_

 _Admiral Yearling leaves; orders the Base Commander to keep the Augments out of suspended animation, no matter what._

" _We were supposed to study how they interacted with each other––"_

 _Shouting. Pain. Phaser fire. Laughter._

 _Our toy over there gets to live a little longer._

Spock sent another wave of calm.

" _Focus, Alvin."_

" _I'm sorry."_

" _Don't be...What happened after Admiral Yearling left?"_

" _We followed orders."_

 _Four Augments in a cell, demanding to be released. Demanding to speak to the person in charge. Laughing at each other's jokes. Arguing amongst themselves._

" _Four Augments, Alvin?"_

 _An open door._

 _Three angry faces, glowering down at him._

 _His hand...his fingers…_

 _Dragged out of the cell._

 _An Augment, dead on the floor._

 _Harulf took the knife out from..._

 _Nausea. Pain._

 _It hurt and he hated it._

 _A summary of the last few days of his––_

" _Alvin…"_

There was only so much Spock could heal if the man was not yet ready to process his memories completely.

" _...Sorry…"_

" _Alvin, how did the Augments escape their cell?"_

" _...A supply ship came, late in the afternoon. The pilot said he'd been delayed by an ion storm. He just flew right in and…"_

 _Reports of a firefight in the shuttlebay._

 _Sector after sector of the facility going dark._

 _Alvin, for the love of God, send out the distress signal!_

 _Phaser fire in the control room._

 _A knife flying past his head; hitting his friend Natalie._

 _Blood._

 _Agony shooting through his nervous system._

 _On the floor._

 _Blurry vision._

 _Get up. Get up. You're…_

 _Khan's face, smiling at him._

 _Disarmed._

 _Dragged to his feet._

 _Take me where I need to go..._

Spock wanted to stop. Many of Alvin's recent memories were scorched and raw; mixed together as his mind fought to suppress the worst of what had been done to him...

But they needed to know...

" _So, it was Khan who attacked your facility?"_

" _If that's what Khan looks like, then yes."_

" _What do you mean?"_

 _What is the code?_

 _I can't––_

 _Snapping fingers like matchsticks._

 _His screams met with a smile._

 _Shoved into a cell._

 _Locked in._

 _Voices._

 _Despite what you may have heard, I can be merciful. Bring me to what I want, and you may not experience death today…_

 _Who are you?_

 _Joaquin! Otto! Zuleika! Harulf! I cannot believe––_

 _How do you know our names?_

 _I am Khan Noonien Singh. You are Joaquin Weiss. We have known each other for––_

 _Liar._

 _What?_

 _Liar!_

 _Surprised grunts; shouts._

 _Something slams against his door._

 _What have you done to Khan?_

 _Screams._

 _Otto!_

 _Footsteps stumbling away._

 _Far too quiet...Are they gone? Are they dead? Is he dead?_

 _Joaquin! Harulf! Look what this thing can do!_

 _The lock on his door disintegrates._

 _An open door._

 _Three angry faces…_

 _The woman begins to smile._

 _I wonder what this other setting will do to him?_

 _Laughter…_

Spock used calm like a shield, pushing back the fresh cacophony of horrifying sounds, images and emotions that began to surface in the lieutenant's mind.

" _...Alvin, I believe I have seen enough. I do not wish to cause you any more distress."_

" _...Okay. Thank you…"_

Spock sent one last, powerful wave of calm to the lieutenant; gingerly unraveled their connection.

He opened his eyes, and found his vision to be impaired.

"Spock…" Jim's worried voice. "Spock, are you crying?"

Was he?

Spock blinked. Something wet dripped from his eyes.

Yes. He was.

"Kirk to Doctor Chapel, could you come to Alvin's biobed for a minute?"

"On my way."

"There is no need to call the doctor, captain," Spock shuddered. "It is simply an emotional transference. A common side effect of mind melds of this...intense nature...It will pass."

He wiped his eyes, and saw Alvin staring at him.

"I feel so calm…" The lieutenant said. "Calmer than I've felt in years...Will that pass too?"

That poor young man…He went through so much...

"Yes," Spock nodded. "But before it fades, I suggest that you go to sleep. Your mind will digest some of your recent memories into a less...distressing form. It is part of the healing process the meld encourages."

"What did you do?!"

Spock turned to see Doctor Chapel staring at him.

"We needed to know what happened at Alvin's facility," Spock...frowned? His face felt...odd. "I performed a mind meld, and––"

"I can see that." Chapel rushed over with a medical tricorder; began to scan him. "Do you know how dangerous those things can be? You should have let me know, so I could monitor both of your synaptic patterns...Your dopamine and serotonin levels are very low."

Spock took a deep breath. "As I said: emotional transference. A severe case, apparently. My levels will stabilize soon."

"I hope so." The doctor turned her scans to Alvin; sighed in relief. "You're fine, Lieutenant. Your levels actually look far better now than they did an hour ago...and I think it's pretty obvious why."

"Spock, I thought I told you to be careful…" Jim was upset.

Spock turned to face his captain. He felt...offended?

"I _was_ careful," Spock said. "There was just so much...Khan attacked the facility. However, Admiral Yearling had ordered the Augments woken up for a psychological study long before Khan's arrival. For some reason, the Augments do not appear to have recognized their former leader. This led to a confrontation...in which Khan was driven away, and Alvin was...was..."

He needed to bring his emotions back under control. These outbursts were...unbefitting of a Vulcan.

"But why would they not recognize him?" Jim asked. "He's a pretty recognizable guy."

"I do not know, Jim."

Jim blinked. "Wow, you really are out of it if you're...Way to drop the formalities, Spock."

"Forgive me, captain."

Jim grinned. "Not a problem...I think this might be the Vulcan equivalent of one of those ancient Earth videos where somebody has their wisdom teeth taken out."

Spock chose to ignore that comment.

"...Al...Lieutenant Kim, as I said before, I think you may wish to rest…"

Spock turned back to Alvin. He was already asleep on the biobed, a smile on his face.

"...Soon."

He heard Doctor Chapel laugh.

"M'Benga's been fighting to get him back to sleep without medication for ten hours," Chapel said. "The nurses owe you one for that, Commander."

He nodded. "I am glad to be of service."

"...Spock," Jim's face was grim. "Did you see anything about Bones?"

"...No," Spock said evenly. "However, captain, that does not mean much in this situation. Doctor McCoy would have been a liability on a rescue mission like the one Khan attempted to conduct. It would be logical to assume that Khan is keeping Doctor McCoy in a secure location in order to treat any injuries he may sustain."

Jim closed his eyes. "As long as the Augments' attack didn't kill Khan...In which case…"

"Yes, captain...Unfortunately, that is also a possibility."

It appeared he was regaining control over his emotions. His voice remained stoic throughout that statement.

...But now there were tears in Jim's eyes.

"Spock," Jim said. "If these Augments were willing to...what do you think Khan is doing to Bones?"

Khan undoubtedly held a grudge against them for the events of their first meeting. If his sense of retribution was anything like that of his compatriots...

"...I do not know, captain..."

...Spock did, however, know one thing.

The particular emotion he was currently fighting to suppress was not just a side effect of the meld.


	23. Chapter 23

A spacewalk.

Khan was making him go on a freaking spacewalk.

Well, technically, a moonwalk, but since both kinds of walks involved having only a few constrictive layers of protective clothing and transparent aluminum between him and a horrible death, Leonard didn't really care about the distinction.

The doctor fidgeted in the environmental suit Khan had made him put on. He thought he'd got everything put together right, but he wasn't sure. All that was left was the helmet, and he'd be...

Leonard looked over at his captor. Khan was packing a bag of equipment. It looked like it was gonna be heavy.

"Are ya sure this is safe?" Leonard tugged at the suit's collar. "The airlock...are ya sure it still works right?"

Khan turned to him, frowning.

"As I have said twice before, doctor, the airlock functions perfectly...And I will be by this control panel the entire time you are outside."

"...Right…"

He'd feel a lot more reassured by that statement if Khan wasn't in a full EV suit himself. Kinda took the air out of his whole...well…'opening the airlock won't take all the air out of the ship...' argument.

Khan rolled his eyes. "Once again, I promise: if something _does_ go wrong, I will not simply abandon you to the elements. It would be a nuisance to have to train a new doctor."

...Well, that wasn't very comforting.

"Okay," Leonard nodded. "Fine. Now...can we please go over this plan one more time before I start crawlin' around the hull of this ship?"

Khan sighed, but nodded.

One of the more surprising developments of the past few days had been how patient a teacher Khan could be. Apparently, when the killer's mind was focused on a project that was actually starting to go well, he was far less...punchy.

"You will weld the deflector panels I have created onto key points of the Botany Bay's hull," Khan said. "Once they are in place and activated, the panels will generate a small, but powerful, shield around the Botany Bay. This will protect the ship from meteor strikes in the short term, as well as from heat damage and strain when we travel to the neighboring moon. As I will be monitoring your progress through the holographic interface of our environmental suits, I will be able to guide you should any issues arise. Does that all make sense?"

Leonard nodded. "Yeah, I get all that...But…"

Khan raised an eyebrow. "But what, doctor?"

"This ship's technically on its side, right?" The doctor said. "I mean, when it's in space, it flies horizontally...but ships like this were built on Earth, and had to take off vertically with a whole bunch of rockets strapped to them, didn't they? So–"

"How do I expect to launch this ship off of this moon?" Khan interrupted. "Let me worry about that, doctor. Just do your job."

Leonard bit his tongue.

...This wasn't his job.

"Anything else, doctor?"

Leonard really, _really_ wanted to say: 'Oh, yeah! How could I forget? There is something else: I want you to treat me like a human being instead of a living Swiss Army knife! Jackass.'

...But he knew where that'd lead.

"...Nope, that's it."

Khan smiled; brought over the equipment bag; tousled Leonard's hair.

"Good boy." He put a gloved hand on Leonard's shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Leonard glared at his captor.

He hated this.

He hated that he'd been forced to be an engineer for the past six days. He hated stripping wires. He hated scrubbing and polishing corroded equipment until it was kinda–sorta usable again. He hated that Khan made him do that, _barefoot_ , all damn day long, and then chained him back to that damned biobed every night.

...And he hated that he was twenty two days into his kidnapping, and with every passing moment his chances of having _any_ kind of future trickled away...no matter how much of a "nuisance" replacing him might be for Khan.

...Of course, he also hated getting hit. And having his friends' safety dangled in front of him.

And those things happened a helluva lot less often when he just did what Khan told him to do.

"I'm as ready as I'm gonna be," Leonard muttered; locked his helmet into place. The blue lights of the holographic interface switched on. "Let's get this over with."

Khan looped the equipment pack's strap over Leonard's left shoulder and under his right armpit; dropped it.

The doctor stumbled; gritted his teeth as the new weight aggravated some persistent sore spots...

"Jesus!" Leonard grunted. "How do ya expect me to carry all this stuff without topplin' over?"

"I will turn off the Botany Bay's artificial gravity," Khan said. "This moon has a mass sixty percent lower than that of Earth. You will have no trouble carrying the equipment."

"...Sure."

Khan sighed; pointed toward the open inner hatch of the airlock. "Do not make me drag you, doctor."

...Really?

"No need for that," Leonard grumbled. "I'm goin…"

He shuffled into the tiny room; heard the inner hatch close behind him. The outer hatch was identical to the one he just passed through: a little taller than Leonard; about three people across. It had one of those old–fashioned wheel locks in the center. Since the airlock was supposed to be controlled by the panel Khan was at, that wheel must've been put there as an emergency feature...in case the power went out, or something just as crappy.

There was a loud hissing sound.

...Khan must've started depressurizing the airlock...

Leonard checked the systems readout on the holographic display. Everything looked good: an active comm line to Khan's suit; a steady oxygen supply; carbon dioxide scrubbers working at a decent efficiency; full thruster fuel.

Even with the moon's gravity as low as it was, the thrusters wouldn't do much out there...unless he needed them to regain his balance.

...So...actually...he was glad to have them.

The doctor took a deep breath; winced.

Like he'd told Khan a few days before, he was in as decent health as could be expected for someone in his position...But some of what Khan had done to him was damn near impossible to treat completely on his own.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" Leonard asked over the comm. "This pack is killin' me."

"Patience, doctor," Khan's disembodied voice said.

The pack on his back started to feel...lighter. Actually...everything...started to feel lighter...and the world started to pitch toward the outer hatch.

What the hell…?

Oh. Right.

Khan was lowering the artificial gravity.

...That pack actually _wasn't_ bad at all...But the angle was a bit worrying.

"The outer hatch should begin to open...now."

Right on cue, the weird wheel in the center of the outer hatch started to spin. Leonard heard a lock disengage; a crackling pop that must've been an ancient seal on the hatch peeling away from the frame it'd been stuck in for hundreds of years…

Once again...not a very reassuring thought.

The outer hatch swung open. A fine yellow dust drifted onto the floor.

He was suddenly reminded of a certain historical quote.

"Khan?"

"Yes, doctor?"

"Quick question: have you gone out here before?"

"Once. To assess the damage to the hull. Why?"

Damn.

Well, he was still probably be the first non–Augmented human to experience this moon's atmosphere.

One small step for a non–Augmented man; one giant leap for...an Augment ass' repair plans.

Not the best quote to use after all...

"No reason. I'm headin' out."

Leonard walked to the open hatch; looked out.

"Holy..."

"Is everything alright, doctor?"

Leonard swallowed. There was no ladder. Just flat sheet metal, a few little jetties where some of the weirder shapes of the ship connected, and...

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just...You're seein' what I am, right? The whole ship's tilted up into the air...Are you sure this suit's powerful enough ta hold my weight? That's gotta be a hundred foot drop that I'm lookin' at right now."

"From your current position, it is forty six _meters_ , doctor," Khan sounded annoyed. "I believe that equates to approximately one hundred fifty feet. And yes: if used properly, the electromagnetic properties of your suit will prevent you from falling."

Leonard sighed. "Well, I better use 'em properly, then."

The doctor leaned against the frame of the hatch; tapped the holographic display. A new graphic popped up in the corner of the screen.

"Switching on the electromagnetic conductors..."

He tapped again. The soles of his boots flattened against the metal floor; the pads of his gloves clung to the doorframe.

Leonard tested a boot. It wouldn't budge when he tried to slide it across the floor, but it rose slowly when he pulled his leg straight up. The moment he began to lower the boot, it snapped back down to the floor.

The doctor shifted his weight; wrapped his right leg around the doorframe; snapped the boot down onto the outer hull. It seemed to stick the same way, so he slapped down a hand.

Damn, that was a long way down…

...Probably wasn't a good idea to overthink this.

He took a breath, and swung the rest of his body out onto the outer hull. The second boot and glove did exactly what they were supposed to do.

"Not bad, doctor. I thought you might not have that in you."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises."

...And he was more afraid of what Khan would do to his friends if he couldn't get himself to do this than he was of dying out here.

At least that'd be...quicker than Khan'd make it. Probably.

"Climb to the topmost point of the ship. You will work your way down with the deflectors."

"...Alright."

The climb was easier than he'd expected. It probably helped that he weighed less than half of what he normally did: he could spider–crawl up the ship without feeling like his arms were going to pop out of their sockets.

As he climbed, Leonard thought back to his Starfleet survival training on how to survive a long fall.

...What he remembered about terminal heights was...not helpful.

"You do realize that I'm gonna have to weld most of these things on with one hand, right?" Leonard asked over the comm. "I need to keep one hand on the hull, or–"

"Yes, doctor. I am aware. That is why the bases of the deflectors are magnetic."

"...Oh...Okay."

As Leonard neared the top, the slope steepened to a rounded–off point. He wasn't sure he could––

"That is far enough, doctor." Khan ordered. "Place the first panel where you are."

"...Alright."

It really didn't take long to secure the deflector. The worst part was getting it out of his pack without making half of the other equipment spill out. Leonard was pretty sure Khan would find a way to make him go get it if it fell…

Luckily, that didn't happen.

"The first deflector's welded on." Leonard reported.

"I can see that. Flip the switch on its base."

Leonard thought about that for a moment.

"...It's not gonna start generatin' a shield the second I flip that, is it? I really don't wanna––"

"No, doctor. The deflectors I designed will not generate a shield until they are _all_ properly positioned, activated, and given a signal from my control panel. Flipping the switch will simply put the deflector into a standby mode. Now flip it."

"...Sure thing."

Leonard flipped the switch. A blue light started blinking...He assumed that was a good thing.

"Thank you, doctor. That panel is functioning perfectly."

"...You're welcome."

"Now you just need to position the other seven."

Leonard sighed.

Panel two went near the underside of the top of the ship. Leonard was sure he was going to peel off..but he was happily proven wrong.

On panel three, Leonard nearly dropped the welding torch. He let out a sigh of relief when he caught it with his knees.

Panels four and five went on either side of a giant tank thing that ballooned out from the ship's center; six went right between them.

All of that had taken an hour; maybe two...but Leonard's muscles ached. Forty percent of normal gravity still felt pretty damn exhausting after a while.

The doctor reached a junction where what he assumed was the room holding the nuclear engines jutted out. He took the opportunity to plant his feet; rolled so he was leaning against the ship.

"Is something wrong, doctor?"

"Khan," Leonard panted. "I gotta take a breather. My legs are startin' ta cramp up."

"Very well. You may rest for ten minutes."

"Sounds great. Thanks."

Leonard turned of his suit's magnetics; shifted his nearly empty equipment bag to the side; slid his back down the hull. He sat on the engine room wall and stretched.

God, that felt good…

The doctor closed his eyes. The holographic display was great at keeping his eyeballs from frying every time he used the torch, since it automatically darkened at the first sign of a spark...but the constant blue ring of light around the edges of his vision was giving him a headache.

"It is a lovely view, is it not?"

The doctor frowned, confused.

"What?"

"The view. Do not tell me you fell asleep."

Oh. Right. Khan was looking through his visor…

"No, I…" Leonard cracked his eyes open.

...Khan was right.

The moon they were on was a weird kind of beautiful. There were yellow dunes a bit to the...well he didn't know what direction it was...but the sun was hitting them at an angle that made them seem to glow.

And the sky! Good God! The storms on the planet below were swirling around each other now: reds and yellows and oranges and some weird streaks of blue and green...dancing like it was some kind of freaking ballet. Swaths of the ball of rock and gas glowed as veins of lightning bled through the planet's atmosphere...

"It's gorgeous," Leonard breathed.

"I agree completely." Khan's voice was light. "I must say, doctor: you have made far better time than I anticipated."

The doctor smirked. "...Just wanna get back inside."

"And here I was, believing that you disliked my company."

Leonard laughed.

"Yeah, well, you can…" The doctor trailed off; frowned.

...What the hell was happening?

His eyes widened.

...No.

Oh, _Hell_ no!

He was _not_ gonna start bantering with that asshole. Khan treated him like dirt. He didn't even call him by his name. He was a goddam _slave_ out here! Khan'd butcher him in a heartbeat if it meant he'd get his crew back. He was threatening nearly everyone Leonard loved! He was not about to...

He needed to get the hell away from Khan as fast as he could. He needed to go home. He needed...

"Doctor, did something happen to our connection?"

...A lot of things that were never gonna happen.

Leonard looked at the other moon: the one Khan had sent him out on this gut–clenching climb to help them reach.

If he somehow survived...however long it took for Khan to track down his crew...what would Khan do with him? Would Khan strand him on that little blue orb; force him to treat every little Augmented stubbed toe until he...or would Khan just kill him the second he felt his crew was safe?

He obviously wasn't ever going to let him go…

Leonard shifted; winced as a spot in his upper left side flared up.

...Well...he guessed it didn't really matter, did it?

"Nope," Leonard muttered. "I'm still here. Let's get this thing finished up…"

"...Very well." Khan sounded...disappointed? "The next panel needs to be attached to the top of the engine room. Do not forget to turn your suit's electromagnets back on."

The doctor rose carefully; his boots snapped down when he switched them back on.

"...Wasn't gonna forget that."

He secured panel seven in silence; made his way down the side of the ship.

Panel eight needed to be put under the ship's thrusters. These were just behind the engines; only about three stories above the ground.

"Doctor, when you are finished with this panel, will you require another period of rest before you return?"

"...Probably not."

"Very well. I will prepare a test of the shield. We will be able to review your handiwork once you are back onboard."

"...Sounds like a plan."

The panel's magnetic base clicked into place; Leonard fused it to the ship with his torch. He reached out, and––

"Wait! Doc––"

––flipped the switch.

A pulse of energy burst from the deflector; pushed Leonard off the wall.

The doctor screamed; tried desperately to reattach as he fell.

He couldn't get through the shield.

A bit of Leonard's survival training forced its way through his panic.

Feet first; cover your head. Feet first; cov––

Pain lanced through Leonard's frame as he hit; something snapped in his right shin.

He crumpled; his right side slammed onto the moon's surface.

He felt ribs crack; the remaining air screeched from his lungs.

His helmet bounced; the screen cracked, but mercifully did not shatter.

Everything went grey for a moment, but he stayed awake.

Leonard opened his eyes.

...He'd landed.

...He was alive.

...He wanted to throw up.

A cloud of yellow dust drifted around him. The doctor's vision was full of sparks, and he couldn't tell if they were coming from the suit, or from his concussed brain.

Leonard tried to move, but his gasps for air turned to shallow pants. God, he had to have a collapsed lung! How the hell––

"Doctor?"

Khan's voice. He could vaguely make it out over his own heartbeat.

"Doctor, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

The adrenaline in his system would wear off soon. He needed to answer Khan before...

Shock. He was going to go into shock.

Leonard tried to steady his breath enough to speak.

He needed help…

"K–K–" Leonard coughed; groaned.

"Do...or?"

...His display screen was flickering.

...No…

"K–Kh–"

Leonard wheezed.

He forced himself to shift; hugged his injured side. A little more air started making its way back into his lungs.

Leonard took a breath.

"Kha–"

The holographic projector flickered off. The comm system cut out.

The doctor's bleary eyes widened.

Little bits of yellow dust settled on his visor.

...He was alone.


	24. Chapter 24

"Doctor?"

...Nothing.

Khan sighed; snarled.

McCoy's scream had nearly blown out the speaker in Khan's environmental suit. He'd lost his link to the doctor's suit a moment after the he landed...There was no way to tell if the man was alive.

...Given the moon's low gravity, the odds of the doctor surviving that fall were high...However, the odds of the doctor surviving that fall without catastrophic injuries...

"Doctor," Khan tried one last time. "Doctor, respond."

The link remained dead.

...How inconvenient.

Khan glared at the control panel.

A mistake in the coding of the grid's activation system had caused the shield to come up when it was only supposed to be in standby...Such was the risk of relying on Starfleet base code to save programming time: one never knew when some imbecile might have put a zero in the wrong spot.

It was a simple matter to fix, however he could not help but feel a bit morose that he had not waited for McCoy to come back inside before preparing his diagnostic scan of the shield. His haste had tripped the glitch, and he had not been able to inform the doctor in time to prevent his fall.

Khan dropped the shield; contemplated his next move.

He had promised not to leave McCoy to the elements, and he intended to keep his word.

However, if the doctor was still alive, he was undoubtedly severely injured. The injuries might not be treatable. He might have to put the man out of his misery.

...What would be the cutoff point?

Brain damage?

...It would depend on the extent. A small concussion: no. Loss of cognitive ability: yes.

Organ damage?

...Once again...variable.

A broken spine?

...The doctor would thank him.

He hoped McCoy was relatively uninjured. His conditioning was finally taking hold; it would be...unfortunate...to have to start over with a new doctor.

Khan picked up his personal transporter; programmed it to put him down near where McCoy had landed, and then send them to the medbay. He reinstated the ship's artificial gravity, and then beamed to the surface.

The air was full of yellow dust, slowly drifting back to the moon's surface. His feet kicked up small clouds of it as he turned; searched for his missing captive.

...There.

McCoy was lying on his right side, facing the Botany Bay. A thin layer of dust blanketed the man's form; he had obviously scarcely stirred since his fall.

The equipment bag was still wrapped around McCoy's body...had the man landed on...?

If the doctor had landed on the welding torch, or his thruster pack, then a spinal injury was almost guaranteed…

Khan strode silently through the dust; crouched over McCoy.

At the very least, the doctor was breathing. He shook with each respiration, but he was breathing.

Khan put a hand on the man's arm. McCoy jolted; curled in on himself a little more.

It appeared he was conscious.

Khan rolled the doctor onto his back. McCoy's left foot drew itself in; his arms clutched his right side.

The probability of a spinal injury diminished...slightly.

He looked studied McCoy's face. The man's rapid, shuddering breaths were fogging up his cracked visor; his eyes were wide; brimming. He was coated in sweat.

Asking McCoy about the extent of his injuries would be fruitless while they were on the moon's surface. Even if the man was strong enough to speak, there was not enough of an atmosphere for their voices to travel.

Khan looped his right arm behind McCoy's back and through his right armpit; hooked his left under the doctor's knees.

He saw and felt the doctor scream as he lifted him; beamed them to the medbay.

"–king sonofabitch…" McCoy gasped. "Yer transporter's...digging into...my broken...ribs…"

Broken ribs...

Treatable.

The attitude, however...

Khan glared. "Would you have preferred to be left on the surface?"

The doctor shuddered; wheezed.

"No...I just...Can't really...breathe…Please...put me down."

...Better.

"Can you stand?"

McCoy weakly shook his head. "Right leg's...broken. Biobed...please."

A broken leg…

It could be mended.

"Very well."

Khan crossed to the doctor's biobed; lowered him as gently as he could. The thruster pack forced him into a semi–sitting position. McCoy coughed; clutched his right side with a groan.

Khan studied him.

...The environmental suit prevented him from making any determinations.

"How badly are you hurt?"

McCoy's eyes narrowed; widened.

He no doubt realized what Khan was really asking.

"...I can fix it..." The doctor wheezed. "I can fix...me. If ya...help me...I'll be...back to work...in a day...or so. Please..."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "Are you begging, doctor?"

"...Damn right...I'm begging," McCoy glared; winced. "The second I'm...dead...you're gonna go...grab some poor bastard...from their medbay...ta replace me. It's not just...my life...I'm thinkin' 'bout here…"

...A decent argument...not even completely cowardly.

...It would not hurt Khan to try to save the man.

"What supplies do you need?" Khan asked.

McCoy's face flooded with relief; his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"A hypo of...Tri-ox...Top shelf...bookcase...closest to the door."

Khan retrieved the medicine.

"You need ta...take off my helmet," McCoy panted. "Inject...two cc's...inta my neck."

Khan set the hypo to the doctor's specifications; removed McCoy's helmet. There was a bump in the man's hair, above his right ear.

...What if, in a concussed confusion, the doctor was selecting the wrong medications?

"What does Tri–ox do?"

"...Oxygenates...the blood…keeps...me from...suffocatin'..."

...If that was correct, then it was a good first step.

There was only one way to find out.

Khan pressed the hypo into McCoy's neck. He seemed to breathe a little easier.

"Now what?"

"...Trianoline...for my concussion. Point–four cc's...to the neck. And grab a hypo of...Numanol. I'll need that...for localized...pain reduction...in a minute. Both on the...bottom shelf...closest to the beds."

Khan frowned. "Why would you put such useful medications on the bottom shelf?"

McCoy stared at him.

"I don't know...mister…'hit first...hit later.' Why would I...put painkillers...and concussion medicine...near the floor?"

...It was a fair point, even if the doctor's attitude tempted him to forgo treatment.

"Any other medications?"

"...Inaprovaline. Middle shelf...near the door. Fifty cc's...ready ta go. Just in case..."

Khan grabbed the medicines; administered the Trianoline; set the others aside.

"What else?"

"Medical tricorder...auto–aspirator...protoplaser...bone knitter...emergency splint...bandages…and scissors. All middle shelf...near the beds."

Khan knew what most of those devices were, however…

"What does an auto–aspirator look like, doctor?"

"Fist–sized disk...suction cup–like...thing on one side."

Khan retrieved the equipment; set them next to the doctor.

"And now, doctor?"

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut; opened them.

"...Cut this suit off me."

Khan frowned. "Is that necessary?"

"'S'not for...freakin' _fun_!" McCoy snapped. "Suit keeps out radiation...includin' medical scans…'s'why the suits have...internal bio scanners...when they're workin'. Well, suit's fried. Can't take it off normally...without the electronics...and I can't do a...damn thing...with it on."

Khan shrugged. The doctor knew what was necessary here far better than he did.

"Very well."

Khan picked up the scissors; picked a cloth segment of the environmental suit on the doctor's left leg.

Part way through the fabric, the scissors ground against something that they could not cut.

...There was a metallic mesh underneath the cloth that the scissors could not slice. Undoubtedly the material that blocked radiation...

Well, there was a simple solution to that.

Khan severed the strap to the equipment bag; pulled the bag away from the doctor. He found the welding torch; put it on its highest setting; grabbed the loose material on McCoy's left leg.

"What the hell...are you doing?"

"Melting a hole in your suit," Khan replied. "The scissors are too weak to cut the material, however I believe I may be able to rip the suit apart, once I have a way in."

"...Fine. Just don't burn me. I've got...enough problems."

"I have no doubt."

The cloth burned; a three inch hole melted through the metal mesh.

That would do.

Khan switched off the torch; waited for the mesh to cool slightly: ripped it from McCoy's ankle to his armpit.

It was a simple matter to follow the seams of the suit from there. Soon, strips of metal mesh, cloth, and wiring were scattered across the floor.

"You are going to have to let go of your side, if you want the rest of the suit removed."

McCoy grimaced; nodded. "If I pass out...for more than a few seconds...hit me with the Inaprovaline."

The doctor's hand trembled as he pulled it away from his side. His breath returned to frantic pants.

...That was likely not a good sign.

Khan worked quickly. He lifted McCoy slightly; pulled the loop of metal that connected the helmet to the suit over the doctor's head; pulled the thruster pack and back of the suit away; slipped off the man's remaining sleeve; carefully took off the remaining suit leg and boot.

McCoy was now lying flat on his back, once again clutching his right side.

...It did not seem to help his breathing.

"What now, doctor?"

"Shirt," McCoy wheezed. "Cut...open...my shirt...Grab the...auto...aspirator. Please...hurry."

Khan made quick work of the shirt; picked up the device.

McCoy held out a shaking hand.

"...Here…"

Khan handed him the device.

The doctor pressed a button on its side, and placed it, suction cup side down, near the bottom of his right ribcage.

As soon as the auto–aspirator touched skin, a red light illuminated the suction cup, and a hole appeared in the top of the device.

McCoy flinched; bit his bottom lip; clenched his fists.

The auto–aspirator made a small, pulsing, hissing sound.

McCoy's breathing began to deepen.

"Oh, thank god," the doctor relaxed. "It's workin'. Khan...please get the tricorder. Need ta see how everythin' else looks…'fore I start on the leg."

Khan handed him the medical tricorder. McCoy popped a small device out of the side; handed it to Khan.

"Please pass this over me," the doctor said. "Small circles...head to toe. I'll read the results..."

Khan started to scan the man's head.

"Minor concussion," McCoy mumbled. "No surprise there...but no hemorrhaging...so it won't kill me...No signs of whiplash, either...so far, so good."

Khan moved the scans to the doctor's chest. He could not help but notice the motley of new...and old...bruises covering this portion of the doctor's body.

He supposed he should not feel any surprise about their existence. He had created them all, in one way or another. And the doctor's journal had said he was going to stop healing superficial bruising…

...A week ago.

"Six cracked ribs on my right side," McCoy muttered. "Nothin' too out of place for the bone knitter…so there's that."

...Had he truly created all of these bruises within a week?

"Collapsed lung's almost fully inflating again," the doctor smiled weakly. "Hurts like hell, but it's gettin' better..."

Khan had intentionally lessened the severity of his punishments while they worked on the ship. Had he really––

"Wait!" McCoy's eyes went wide. "Go back over my upper left side...slower, please…"

Khan did; the doctor relaxed.

"Thank god," McCoy whispered. "Still just inflamed; not ruptured…"

Khan raised an eyebrow.

"Still, doctor?"

McCoy weakly shook his head.

"It's nothin'...can we please finish the scans?"

Khan frowned; stopped scanning.

"Doctor, what is 'still' just inflamed?"

"Now's really not a good––"

"Doctor!" Khan barked. "Do not keep things from me when I am being generous enough to help you. What is inflamed?"

The doctor swallowed; closed his eyes.

"...My spleen, okay?" McCoy growled. "Just read my journal...once we're done here. It'll explain...better than I can right now. Entry eleven. Just...please finish the scans…"

Khan glared. The doctor had been keeping a possibly severe injury from him for days.

...Although he could understand why.

"Very well."

Khan passed the scanner over McCoy's stomach and hips. The doctor studied the medical tricorder.

"...No spinal damage," McCoy said. "And nothin' else is really more than bruisin'...In case you were wonderin'."

Khan nodded. "Good."

"Pretty sure the left leg's not broken...but it wouldn't hurt ta check."

Khan scanned the leg.

"Yep," McCoy nodded. "'S'got a sprained ankle...and that's all...Now for the other bastard."

Khan scanned the doctor's right leg; heard the man sigh.

"...It's an oblique fracture...in my tibia," McCoy muttered. "The bone's slightly displaced...but not compounded."

"What now, doctor?"

"...Cut my right pant leg up to the knee...then grab the Numanol...Three cc's into my right ribs, and three into my right shin. Please."

Khan did as the doctor asked; some of the tension drained away from McCoy's face.

"Thanks," the doctor sighed. "Ya have no idea how much better that feels...now take the emergency splint, put it on the top of my shin, and wrap it with the bandages. Tightly. That should be enough to realign the bone, and keep it in place for the knitter."

The splint did not take long to put in place, and learning how to use the bone knitter was childsplay.

It felt odd to be mending bones instead of breaking them.

...Yet the sensation of power...that was nothing new.

It was no mystery why doctors were required to take oaths, if this was how they could feel while working on a patient.

Khan wondered if McCoy had felt this way while saving his life…

"It appears the break in your leg is mended, doctor," Khan noted. "Should I move on to your ribs?"

"Yeah...please...Thanks."

The ribs took a bit longer. He had to mend each bone individually; it was a bit tedious. By the time Khan finished mending the ribs, the doctor was visibly exhausted.

"That was the last one, doctor."

McCoy nodded. "Thanks...Could ya do one more scan, just ta be safe?"

Khan picked up the handheld scanner; gave the tricorder to McCoy.

"I apologize for your fall, doctor," Khan said as he scanned. "I assure you: it was unintentional. I did not wish to spend my afternoon fixing your broken bones."

"...Okay…" McCoy swallowed; read the results. "...But thanks for doin' it."

Khan smiled. "You are quite welcome...How long will the auto–aspirator need to remain on your chest?"

"Six hours...at least," McCoy said. "It's pumpin' air out of my chest cavity...from the partially collapsed lung. Once the lung's healed up enough, then it can come off."

"I see."

"Everythin' else looks good," the doctor dropped the tricorder; closed his eyes. "I might fall asleep...for a few minutes...just make sure I'm still breathin', okay? And if not...use the Inaprovaline."

Khan nodded. "I will, doctor."

"...Thanks."

As McCoy began to drift off, Khan searched for the man's journal. He wanted to know why the doctor had been too afraid to tell him about his inflamed spleen.

He found the PADD folded into the middle of the doctor's blanket. McCoy had gotten into the odd habit of neatly folding the blanket and setting it on an unused biobed before they began their day's work. Khan supposed McCoy did this because it was something the man could control about his surroundings...

Khan switched on the PADD; found entry eleven; began to read…

" _Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. Captive's log number eleven. Stardate 2261.117."_

Khan chuckled.

The man still considered himself to be the Enterprise's CMO, even though he had undoubtedly been replaced by now…

 _It's day nineteen out here in the middle of...I have no freakin' clue...where. Khan had me polishing corroded electrical outlets today. He promised that they were disconnected from the ship's power supply, but I still think I felt a few little shocks._

Khan rolled his eyes. Those panels were completely disconnected. It was paranoia on the doctor's part; nothing more.

 _A few minutes ago, I gave myself another physical..._

This must be what McCoy had wanted him to see.

 _I was right. The inflamation in my spleen is not going down. The anti–inflammatory medicine I took was ineffective. Combined with the blood tests I have conducted over the past four days...these results only support one diagnosis:_

 _Xenopolycythemia._

 _That bastard's made me develop xenopolycythemia._

Khan frowned. He had not heard of this condition…

He kept reading.

 _I guess I can't blame him completely. This thing's supposed ta have a genetic component, after all...but this kind of disease isn't supposed to show up till you're in your forties!_

 _...I went to a symposium at the Academy...it must've been my second year. God, that seems so long ago...The keynote was about xenopolycythemia. The doctor speculated that it was triggered by an abnormal immune response; that people might develop it prematurely, if they're put under extreme physiological stress...and I think I'm proof that he was right on the money._

 _All these beatings...all those gut punches, and broken ribs, and...they must've triggered it...Khan doesn't know it yet, but he's already killed me._

Khan's eyebrows shot up.

 _If I was back on Earth, or even on the Enterprise, a splenectomy might still save me. But out here...I don't have a chance. Even if Khan miraculously doesn't murder me with his bare hands...I'll still be dead within a year._

 _I don't wanna die. Not without seein'...my friends again. I…_

 _...I know that even if Starfleet finds us, Khan's not gonna let me go. Killing me'd probably be a nice little "screw you" to the Federation...but if I die before they show up, Khan's gonna kidnap another doctor to take my place...and that person might not care that letting Khan die'll mean that bombs go off on Earth._

 _...And if Khan thinks I'm gonna get too sick to work, he might just kill me now and get somebody without the baggage._

 _I'm not gettin' outta here alive...but if I can keep other people safe for as long as I can, maybe that'll have ta be enough._

 _McCoy out._

Khan set the PADD down; contemplated this new information.

The doctor was right: Khan never intended to let McCoy go.

However…

Khan looked at his sleeping captive with mild disappointment.

McCoy was quite skilled; an asset Khan had hoped to cultivate for years if he could. Their conversation during the spacewalk proved that the doctor was starting to experience symptoms of Stockholm's syndrome. A few more months in his care...

...But should he waste that energy on a man dying from a genetic defect?

McCoy's chest rose slowly; fell. The auto–aspirator let out a puff of air.

Bruises were forming on the doctor's newly–mended leg. More bruises were darkening across McCoy's battered chest and stomach.

...Had he caused the man's disease to develop?

Khan stormed out of the medbay. He needed to ensure their new shield was functioning properly.

McCoy's future was not something he had to decide now.


	25. Chapter 25

Leonard had hoped there might be a silver lining to waking up alone in the medbay.

If there was, he wasn't finding it.

The doctor shivered. Apparently Khan hadn't bothered to throw a blanket over him before he disappeared to god knew where.

...Maybe the guy'd worried that a blanket would screw with the auto–aspirator...but Leonard would put money on the killer not even considering what could happen if he left the doctor with his shirt cut open and no way to cover up...

The doctor lifted his head; looked down at his bare, bruised chest. The light on the auto–aspirator had shifted from red to an orange–yellow. His lung was starting to heal itself...but it still probably wasn't safe to move around a lot...even if he could.

Leonard tried to appraise his other injuries. If he was going to be...back at work...within a day, Khan'd have to bring him the dermal regenerator. They had only treated his broken bones and collapsed lung...and it felt like the painkillers had worn off.

It hurt to breathe again; the bruised muscles in his right leg were twitching painfully.

His left ankle was sore and swollen. Leonard shifted it, trying to make sure the shackle wasn't digging...

...There was no shackle on his ankle.

...The chain was off.

Holy hell, he was alone, and the chain was off!

Leonard tried to sit up; coughed; collapsed with a groan. The auto–aspirator flashed red; puffed.

"Oh, come on…"

Of course, the one time Khan'd forget to put the thing on'd be the one time that Leonard could barely move.

Just his freakin' luck.

...Well, where was he planning to go, anyway? If Khan wasn't in the medbay, then he was probably in the control room. If he couldn't go to the control room to try to contact help, then there was less than no point in trying to get out of bed. And even then, unless he could find somewhere to hide once he got a message out...it would pretty much be a suicide mission.

Even with as little hope as Leonard had left...he wasn't there yet.

The door hissed; Leonard tensed. He was starting to feel a bit like Pavlov's...

Nope. Khan made enough dog comparisons for the both of them...He wasn't gonna start doing it to himself.

The killer walked into Leonard's field of view; nodded in acknowledgement.

"It is good to see you awake, doctor," Khan wasn't smiling. "How do you feel?"

"Like someone shoved me off a cliff," Leonard grumbled. "How long was––"

"Three hours," Khan's eyes scanned down the doctor's body. "Do you need more pain medication?"

Leonard nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great...Thanks."

Khan picked up a hypo of Numanol.

"The same locations?"

Leonard thought a moment; nodded again. "And my left ankle, please. It's swollen…"

A few seconds later, the doctor's ribs and right leg were mercifully numb again.

...But Khan hadn't numbed his…

Oh, hell.

Khan was looking at Leonard's ankle with a frown. "I seem to have forgotten something."

...Yep. He was an idiot.

Maybe he should just blame his concussion...

The killer knelt; came back up with the open shackle.

...Dammit.

Leonard winced as Khan grabbed his sprained ankle; clamped the shackle back into place.

"Is that really necessary?" Leonard asked. "It's not like I'm going to––"

Khan sprung at him; wrapped a hand around Leonard's throat. The doctor flinched; sucked in a breath; waited for the man to squeeze.

...But he didn't.

"Count yourself lucky that this is all I am going to do to you," Khan's blue eyes bored into him. "You lied to me. You said your health was 'fine,' when you already knew about your condition. Lie to me again, and you will not like what comes next. Understand?"

...Well, that answered any doubt Leonard had as to whether or not the killer had read his journal. Which meant he was in for a pretty uncomfortable conversation...But there were still some things he was determined Khan would not discover about him...namely, who Joanna really was.

"No more lies," Leonard lied. "Got it."

"Good."

The killer let go of his throat; sat on the adjacent biobed, next to Leonard's blanket and PADD. Khan glanced at the device, then back at the doctor.

"I know the question you are tempted to ask," the look in Khan's eyes was...strange... "I have one for you as well."

...Well...hell...

Leonard could already tell where this was going.

"...What's the question?"

"You are aware of the healing properties of my blood," Khan said.

"Well, yeah, I––"

"That was not the question," Khan glared at him. "That was merely a statement."

"...Okay."

"...You have studied ethics, doctor," Khan tilted his head thoughtfully. "The question I pose to you is this: if...and given that you claim your disease has a genetic component, it is just an if...if my blood could cure your disease, then which would be crueler of me: to let your disease run its course; let you die within a year...Or to save you? To keep you alive for the sole purpose of helping my people procure a safe home? To keep you captive, forced into servitude, for as long as that takes...even if it takes decades...Which is a crueler fate for me to inflict upon you?"

...Well...that was...a damn good question.

Leonard looked away from Khan; stared at the ceiling.

He'd been asking himself similar questions for days. He knew Khan only had a few choices. He'd never let him go, and it looked like the guy'd decided against just killing him outright.

And that left...

Part of him screamed that staying alive longer meant that he had a better chance of being rescued.

...But if he wasn't ever rescued…

Khan was already getting into his head. What the hell might he become if...

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know."

"Neither do I," Khan rose; picked up Leonard's blanket. "I will have to think on our new dilemma a bit more. Are you cold?"

The doctor blinked.

...Well, that was a shift.

"...A bit," Leonard admitted.

"Will a blanket interfere with the auto–aspirator?"

...Huh.

Maybe Khan actually had been worried about…

"No, it'll be fine...thanks."

Khan spread out the blanket; draped it over the doctor.

"Rest, and in a few hours I may decide to help you with the dermal regenerator," Khan turned; walked briskly out of the medbay.

Leonard closed his eyes; tried to go back to sleep. He couldn't really do anything now anyway. Just try to heal, and...

...God, he needed Jim to find him soon.

At this point, it was his only shot.


	26. Chapter 26

"Mister Scott, how much longer do we have to sit here?"

Jim released the comm button in his office; tapped his fingers on his desk as he waited for his Chief Engineer to respond.

Scotty was probably elbow–deep in the dilithium crystal chamber...or on a coffee break. Either way, it could take a minute for him to get to the comm.

...It was taking a really, _really_ long minute.

Jim pressed the button again.

"Scotty?"

"Sorry Captain," Scotty's voice finally chimed over the comm. "It's going to be a wee bit longer...at least another twelve hours. We've been running the engines ragged for three and a half weeks, and it's...well...it's showing."

Great.

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but just about what he'd expected.

"Do what you can, Mister Scott," Jim said. "Starfleet still wants us at the next outpost in two days."

"I'll do what I can, sir...but we might have to tell them to make it three."

Jim sighed.

He had been afraid Scotty would say that. They had dropped Alvin and the three captured Augments off at Starbase Six a few days before. Alvin was headed back to Earth for...all the therapy he could get...and the Augments were back in stasis on one of the most heavily guarded bases the Federation had.

Then the admirals had sent them straight back out to ferry more of Khan's crew. The captain knew it was more than a little dangerous to run their warp drive at maximum capacity for this long.

Thankfully, after the latest round of Augment juggling, Jim had been able to convince the admirals to give them a couple days off for maintenance.

...But only a couple.

"I'll tell them three days if I have to," Jim said. "But I was hoping you and Keenser could work a little magic...Maybe give us time to swing by Tenia on our way back to Starbase Six? I hear they've finally agreed to sell casks of their purple ale to off–worlders."

"Aye, Captain! Did I say twelve hours? We'll have her running like she just came off the line in six."

Jim smirked. "That's what I like to hear, Scotty. Thanks. Kirk out."

The captain cut off the comm and leaned back in his chair, ready to…

...To do what, exactly?

All of his paperwork was done. All of it. Every last scrap of anything that he had put off writing, or signing, or even just filing properly, had been written, signed, and filed.

He wasn't hungry. He'd gotten lunch with Spock and Uhura an hour before...

The bridge was a no–go. They were standing still; there wasn't anything he could do about that until the engines were back online. The last time Jim tried sitting in the command chair with no orders to give, he'd had to apologize profusely to Chekov. Snapping at him had not been very captain–y...or friend–y…

Jim rubbed his eyes. Maybe he could read a book...or go to the gym. Punching something seemed like it'd be pretty therapeutic.

Anything was better than being in his head.

Sleep wasn't safe. Half the time, closing his eyes meant finding himself back in the command chair, negotiating with the three Augments...but with Bones in Alvin's place.

Bones with haunted eyes. Bones with a broken hand.

...A lot of times, the ending changed.

The captain thought back to the report he gave the admirals after Alvin's rescue. The admirals had praised Jim's plan as brilliant.

But how brilliant could he be if he was just reacting to whatever Khan set into motion? It was like playing chess...but a version where his opponent got to make, like, three moves for every one of his.

Even the whole 'move Khan's crew to new, undisclosed locations' thing seemed like it was just a way to feel like they were doing something, even if it didn't really seem to help anything.

...The truth was, they still had nothing.

There hadn't been any more attacks on the outposts holding Khan's crew. If Khan _was_ alive, then he was being uncharacteristically quiet...and Jim didn't like to think about what that might mean.

It had been twenty four days since Khan kidnapped Bones, and Jim still had no idea where his best friend was...or even if he was still alive.

They needed to go on the attack. If they couldn't find Khan and Bones in...and he could hear his friend's voice as he thought it…'this ungodly expanse of stardust and death…' then they needed a way to lure Khan out.

But how could they lure someone out if they had no way to contact…

Jim's mouth dropped open. His hand scrambled onto the comm button.

"Kirk to Commander Spock," Jim said.

"Yes, Captain?"

The admirals were wrong.

"Could you please come to my office for a minute?"

"Yes, Captain. I will be right there."

"Thank you."

Jim propped his elbows up on his desk; covered his mouth with his hand.

He wasn't brilliant: he was an idiot. They were all idiots.

The door hissed open, and Spock stepped in.

"Is everything alright, Captain?"

Jim looked up; stared at his friend.

"Spock...how did Khan get that ship? The one he used to infiltrate those bases?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "It appears he stole a supply ship called the Starhopper when it attempted to dock at Xedna Eight. We have already conducted a thorough search of the planet: there was no sign of Khan, or of the pilot. This has been in our reports for days, Captain."

"I know, Spock," Jim nodded. "But how did Khan know that a supply ship had come to Xedna Eight? There's no way he just waited on a deserted outpost, hoping for a small, warp–capable ship, to pop out of nowhere...So how did he know?"

Spock's eyebrow twitched up a little higher.

"Logically," Spock said. "He must have remotely accessed the outpost's sensor data...You are suggesting that Khan has hacked into Starfleet's subspace communications network?"

"Exactly," Jim nodded. It was the only thing that made sense. "He might've only hacked into the lower security levels to avoid detection, but he's got to be in there."

Spock lowered his eyebrow.

"Jim...if Khan was able to hack into our communications systems for this long, then he has undoubtedly found a way to mask the source of the intrusion. I do not believe we will be able to track him."

Jim shook his head; grinned.

This was it. This had to be it.

"Spock, we don't need to find him. We need him to find us."


	27. Chapter 27

Once again, Khan could not see what he was doing.

"Hold the light higher, doctor," Khan growled.

Khan shook his head as the flashlight snapped back into place.

"Sorry...arm's tired."

He could understand McCoy's fatigue: they had been working for thirteen hours...however it still perturbed him to have to accommodate the man's inferior stamina.

"This is the last emergency power cell that needs to be repaired," Khan said. "A few minutes more, and I will allow you to retire for the night."

"Sounds like a plan...Thanks."

Khan continued his work. His repairs were progressing rapidly; the Botany Bay would soon be spaceworthy...or at least as spaceworthy as he needed it to be.

If he could repair enough of the ship's systems, then it would become the hub of his small city: a power plant, hospital, water treatment facility, and emergency shelter all in one. He still needed to procure a permanent source of food...however if rationed properly, the food he had procured from Xedna Eight and the supply ship could sustain seventy people for well over a year.

...Or sixty–nine people, should he allow McCoy to succumb to his illness.

Khan had yet to make that decision.

From a survival standpoint, killing McCoy, or allowing his illness to kill him, struck Khan as remarkably wasteful. Having a skilled surgeon like McCoy in their colony would be highly advantageous, even if Khan was also able to rescue his own doctor.

But morals among Augments were almost as varied as those of average humans. As loath as he was to admit it, what he was doing to McCoy was technically slavery; the very fate he hoped to save his people from. Should he decide to keep McCoy, some of the softer members of his crew would react with outrage.

...Slavery or death...

And even McCoy did not seem to know which he would prefer.

It would not be an easy decision, when the time came.

"I believe the power cell has been repaired," Khan said. "Step back while I reconnect it."

"'Kay."

The light dropped; he heard McCoy move away.

Khan plugged the power cell into the main system...and immediately smelled hot metal.

"Damn!"

Khan quickly disconnected the device; frowned.

Where was his mistake?

"That doesn't smell like it's a good thing…"

Khan glared at McCoy.

The doctor swallowed.

"Sorry…"

Khan rose; held out his hand.

"Flashlight."

McCoy gave it to him; Khan knelt to inspect the damage. The wire connected to the negative terminal was smoking. What could cause…

...Oh.

Khan laughed; he heard McCoy jump behind him.

"What happened?"

"I reversed the polarity of the cell's electron flow," Khan turned, shaking his head. "A simple mistake; although it is one I am surprised I made."

McCoy blinked; a twitch of a smile crept onto his face.

"Are ya sayin' ya switched the plus and minus wires around?"

Khan nodded. "It would appear so. It will only take a moment to remedy."

The doctor snorted; did a curious little bounce. "Well, everyone makes…"

McCoy went still. The smile faded; his right hand started toying with the ring on his left.

"...Mistakes."

Khan watched the display, intrigued.

These bouts of humor, always rapidly followed by sullen silences, were something that had developed since McCoy's fall. It was likely that the new behavior had less to do with the accident itself, and more to do with Khan's decision to temporarily abstain from physical punishments.

Despite his promise, McCoy could barely walk the first day, let alone return to a full work detail. That had not stopped Khan from assigning him some menial chores to complete while in bed...but even now, four days after the accident, the doctor still had a slight limp.

It seemed unwise to add to McCoy's current injuries...and it appeared Khan's decision had beneficial side–effects.

At least, beneficial for him.

From the way the doctor was clutching that indulgent little ring, it appeared McCoy understood what was happening to him...and was terrified of it.

Khan set the flashlight on the floor; rose to his feet.

"I can fix this on my own," Khan smiled. "There are still a few items I need to build this evening, without your...distractions. Hands on the wall; feet apart."

McCoy grimaced; shifted uncomfortably. "I'm really not dumb enough to try ta take anything...can't we just skip this?"

Khan raised an eyebrow.

He could not understand what the man gained from making that request day after day.

"Doctor: you can either allow yourself to be searched, or you can walk back to the medbay without clothes."

As occurred every time they had this exchange, McCoy's shoulders slumped in defeat; he let out a deep sigh.

"...Fine."

The doctor turned; pressed his palms against the wall.

Khan walked over; tousled McCoy's hair.

"Good choice."

Khan felt the doctor tense as he began the search: a quick check of the shirt collar; up and down the sleeves; pants pockets; waistband; et cetera...

Some of the tools they used in the control room were powerful enough to cut duranium. Thus far, McCoy had been intelligent enough to not attempt to smuggle any of them back to the medbay...however there could always be a first time.

Fortunately for the doctor's continued recovery, Khan found nothing.

"All done," Khan patted McCoy on the back. "You did good work today."

Khan collected the PADD that opened McCoy's shackle, then gestured for the man to start limping back to the medbay. The doctor did so without a word.

McCoy was definitely improving. A few more days, and he might be able to have the doctor make another trip onto the Botany Bay's hull. They needed to install thruster modules on the underside of the ship if they were going to launch.

...Perhaps it would be better for Khan to perform that task himself. He had doubts as to whether or not McCoy was psychologically capable of making that trek again. It would not do to have the doctor freeze up halfway down the ship.

When they reached the medbay, McCoy automatically crossed to his biobed; sat on the edge; extended his left foot.

Khan typed the code into the PADD; the shackle opened. Khan crossed; closed it around McCoy's left ankle. The doctor did not flinch.

"I will be back in about an hour with your dinner," Khan put a hand on McCoy's shoulder; smirked. "I trust you will not go anywhere?"

"Nope...I'll be here."

"That you will," Khan chuckled; tousled the doctor's hair again. "Good boy."

He did not miss the sneer that twitched across McCoy's face...or the accompanying eye roll. The doctor was trained, however he was by no means tame. It was truly more like having a pet wolf than a dog: if Khan was not careful...there was no telling what McCoy might try to do.

With McCoy secure, Khan returned to the control room. Within minutes, the power cell was fully operational, and Khan was able to begin his evening's more...sensitive...work.

As a break from his engineering tasks, Khan read the Starfleet communiques his ship had intercepted throughout the day.

Most of them were quite dull: crew reassignments; the details of a trade deal with a species called the Tenians; promotion announcements for a couple new admirals.

...He supposed he might have had something to do with those vacancies.

Despite the tedium, he persisted. He had no idea where his crew was, however he suspected they were being moved. If Starfleet Command had any intelligent members, then they would have assumed he had extracted his crew's locations from the admiral on Xedna Eight before he died...even it it was not true. Starfleet's first reaction would have been to start moving his crew to new locations.

Unfortunately, Khan had yet to find evidence of those transfers.

He ran a computer code he had written to sort through the communiques. It was relatively useless. It never produced anything…

Khan sucked in a breath.

...Until now.

It was a single communique, written by a communications officer on a ship called the Reliant. It appeared the officer had intended to list the communique under a high level communications channel; one that Khan had not risked accessing for fear of being traced.

The communique requested data on the power requirements necessary to safely sustain a cryostasis chamber. The request indicated that the chamber...and whomever it contained...would be moved off of an outpost near the Romulan border in three days.

...This seemed far too convenient to be anything but a trap.

An experienced communications officer would never make such a ridiculous error. Unless the officer was on their first assignment…

Khan reviewed the crew reassignment list, and was mildly surprised to find the officer's name.

Perhaps the person _had_ actually made an error while learning a new ship's systems...or perhaps Starfleet Command had planted the request, and the officer's name on the list, in order to lure him out of hiding.

...But did the distinction matter?

He had no leads; no prospects of finding leads by staying out of sight.

If the communique was real, then he would be able to launch a surprise attack; potentially rescue one of his crewmates; possibly even discover the locations of some other members of his family.

If the communique was fake, then he could at least identify the person who orchestrated the ruse. They would undoubtedly know where his crew was being held, and they would tell him...eventually.

Khan pulled up the sensor data he stole from the observatory...almost exactly...two weeks before. Time definitely went by fast when one was removed from civilization.

The outpost the communique described was only a short distance from a trading hub. If Khan could beam to the hub; procure a ship without raising any alarms...he might be able to infiltrate the facility.

It would be a risk...however he had quite a few pieces of leverage, as well as a few stolen technologies, that the Federation was not aware of. Even if this was a trap...if he acted with caution...then he could still succeed.

Khan grinned.

Three days until the cryotube was to be moved…

He would strike in two.


	28. Chapter 28

The ability to stay calm was one of the most important characteristics of a Starfleet captain.

Of course, there were times when this was next to impossible.

...Jim was realizing this might be one of those times.

"And you are _certain_ Khan stole the correct ship?"

Jim fought the urge to dig his fingers into the command chair's armrests. He was pretty sure that if he tried, he'd accidentally press a button and...blow something up or something.

But it was hard to fight the urge.

Admiral Alston was _literally_ looking over his shoulder. His hand was on the back of Jim's chair, tapping...constantly tapping...

The admiralty had apparently decided that sending a living cliche to micromanage Jim's operation was...just the best plan ever.

"Yes, Admiral," Jim reported. "He took one of the supply ships on the Mieson Belt trading outpost. The ship was listed as 'undergoing mid–level repairs' to explain the absence of a crew, but it's still able to go to warp."

"Explain again: what _exactly_ is the benefit of allowing him to take this ship?" The admiral asked. "We could have trapped him just as easily at the trading post."

Jim shook his head. "With all due respect, sir: this plan gets Khan as far from inhabited sectors as possible. If we'd trapped him in the trading post, he would've threatened to blow up the ship's warp core and...Khan's not above killing civilians."

Alston huffed. "He's definitely killed enough people already...And your engineers are certain their modifications to the ship are fully operational?"

Maybe Spock sensed how annoyed Jim was getting, because the Vulcan finally decided to chime in.

"Admiral Alston, Chief Engineer Scott made the modifications personally," Spock said. "The sensors have been modified. When he comes out of warp, we will be able to detect him, but he will not be able to detect us. His sensors will also register the outpost below us as fully staffed. Furthermore, once Khan lands, the supply ship will completely shut down. Khan will not be able to use it to escape. Mister Scott has guaranteed this."

"Good," the admiral changed the rhythm of his taps. "This plan of yours had better work, Captain."

"Yes, sir," Jim nodded. "I know."

He missed Admiral Pike. That man would have just let Jim do what he needed to do. He didn't need a babysitter. This was _his_ plan, down to the last detail.

...Well, almost the last detail.

The admirals had some ideas of their own. Jim didn't like it, but...he really didn't like it.

He guessed the admiralty was just being...cautious...but their little 'contingency' plan could easily end up backfiring.

Jim looked around the bridge. Everyone was tense.

Spock's eyes were glued to the sensor readout, waiting for the first sign of Khan's ship.

Uhura adjusted a device around her neck: a voice manipulator. Khan had heard her voice before; if he remembered it, then this could be over before it really began.

Christine was at an auxiliary panel. It seemed like a good idea to have her up here, since she knew so much about Augment physiology.

...Chekov kept glancing away from his controls and back at the doctor. The guy was definitely smitten...and Christine was definitely not interested at the moment.

Sulu was ready to get them the hell out of there if Khan did decide to blow up that warp core. His hand rested on a picture of his daughter…

This all had to go perfectly, or a lot of good people could get hurt.

The captain pressed the comm button.

"Mister Scott, are you ready in Engineering?"

"Aye, laddie. As ready as we'll ever be. Lieutenant Cup...Hendorff...and his team checked in a moment ago: they're all set as well."

"Thanks, Scotty. Kirk out."

Jim pressed the button again.

"M'Benga, you good in the medbay?"

"Yes, Captain. We can have Khan in a medically–induced coma within seconds of his arrival...as long as he's properly restrained when you bring him to us...and preferably already unconscious."

"Keep up the good work, doc. Kirk out."

As Jim turned off the comm, he heard Admiral Alston snort behind him.

Jim turned to the man. "Is everything alright, Admiral?"

"You are far too...familiar...with your crew, Kirk," Alston remarked. "I know you did not have much...real–world experience...with the proper chain of command before your ascension to captain, but Starfleet Command still expects you to address your department heads with respect."

Jim blinked. "I...I do."

"Admiral Alston," Spock turned to them, eyebrow raised. "Our crew was assigned to a five–year mission in deep space, of which we are nearing the end of the first year. Most of this crew has been assigned to the Enterprise for the past three years. Any nicknames, or other...familiarities…expressed by the Captain, or any senior member of the crew, are the logical development of an assignment of this duration, and serve to improve crew morale. They are not meant to be disrespectful."

The admiral glared at Spock. "In my day, Commander, first officers asked permission to speak as frankly as you just have."

Spock tilted his head. "My apologies, Admiral. Vulcans speak frankly at all times. I was certain a man of your esteem had experienced this trait of my species before in your...long career."

Jim bit his lip to suppress a laugh; saw Uhura shake her head.

Spock could be sassy when he wanted to be...although he seemed to mostly reserve it for when someone insulted his friends.

Before anyone could say anything that would get them all slapped down to Ensign, Spock's sensor panel beeped; the Vulcan turned back to it.

"Captain," Spock said. "A supply ship has come out of warp and is headed toward the asteroid below. It is emitting an electromagnetic distortion which makes it impossible to check for lifesigns, however its overall energy signature matches that of the ship Khan stole."

"Thank you, Commander," Jim took a breath. "Admiral Alston, may we proceed?"

The admiral glared. "This is your plan, Kirk. You know I've been instructed to observe, however I can and will take over if your operation appears to be failing. Do not mess this up."

...Of all the insufferable, loudmouthed, arrogant...

"Yes, sir."

Jim turned to Uhura.

"You're up, Lieutenant."

Uhura activated the voice manipulator; tapped a code into her control panel.

"Unidentified vessel," the manipulator turned Uhura's voice low and gravelly. "You are approaching a restricted area. Please adjust your trajectory."

"Oh, thank God!" The voice that came from through the comm system was unmistakeable, but panicked. "You have to help me! My name is Ben Watson, C–Captain of the North Star. Something's short–circuited in my ship's life support, and my transporter is not functioning properly! If I cannot dock for repairs, I'll suffocate! Please, help me!"

Uhura gave Jim a look; Jim shrugged.

He'd figured Khan would try something like this. The terrorist was a master of deception and manipulation. Khan treated people like pawns on a chessboard.

That was why they'd evacuated the base, and hijacked its systems. They could control everything in the facility from the Enterprise, and Uhura had made sure that signals coming from the Enterprise would appear to be coming from the outpost.

If Khan wanted to play chess, then they'd play chess.

...Just not with people's lives, if Jim could help it.

"Please stand by," Uhura told Khan; tapped out an eight–count on the edge of her panel. "You have permission to dock. Power down all weapons and non–essential systems. Do not attempt to leave your vessel until told to do so."

"Thank you!" Khan sounded ready to cry. "Thank you so much! I don't know how to repay you."

Jim suppressed a shudder. Khan sounded so genuine. If the terrorist had not taken the bait; had not come to this outpost but instead had taken the ship and run off somewhere with it…

Jim nodded to Chekov; the navigator tapped a command into his control panel.

The facility's forcefield dropped; its docking bay doors opened; Khan's ship slipped inside.

The captain tapped a button on his chair; the inside of the docking bay appeared on the viewscreen. The facility had cameras everywhere, and he intended to use them.

Khan's ship landed.

Jim pressed the internal comm button.

"Now."

The lights on the hull of Khan's ship sputtered out.

"Progress, Scotty?"

"A paper airplane would be more spaceworthy than that pile of bolts! As requested, the only parts still working are the communications system and the door."

"Good work, Scotty!...Mister Chekov?"

"Ze facility's forcefield is back online, Captain."

"Fantastic. Spock, can you use the base's sensors to pick up Khan's lifesign?"

"Yes, Captain. There is one lifesign onboard that ship. However, as the facility's forcefield is back online, we still cannot beam Khan out."

Jim nodded. "Didn't expect to be able to. At least not yet."

If the force field also stopped Khan from being able to flit off somewhere with that personal transporter of his, then Jim could deal with having to draw this out.

"Hello?" Khan sounded more panicked than ever. "Can anyone hear me? My ship...something happened. Is everyone alright out there? Is anyone hurt?"

Jim looked to Uhura; she nodded.

Everything was ready.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise," Jim said in his most official voice. "Khan Noonien Singh, you are under arrest for terrorism, murder, and kidnapping. Vacate your vessel and await further instructions."

"...Kirk." All pretense of fear vanished from Khan's voice. "I suspected you might be behind this. It is far too intricate to have come from the admirals."

Jim heard Admiral Alston suck in an outraged breath, but the man blessedly stayed quiet.

Kirk smirked. "Flattery's not going to make us let you go, Khan. We have your ship surrounded. Your door still works. Come out, unarmed. If you attempt to fight us, we will cut you down."

"That would be unfortunate, Kirk...especially for your CMO."

Jim's heart clenched. He found himself unable to speak.

Khan continued.

"That poor, homesick man would starve to death before you could ever find him."

The captain focused on the viewscreen. If he looked away, he might see his friends staring at him.

He needed to keep it together.

Jim found his voice. "Can I take that to mean Doctor McCoy is still alive?"

"Yes, _Captain_ ," there was mirth in Khan's voice. "I take care of my pets...especially the useful ones."

Jim's fingernails dug into his palm.

Keep it together…

"Surrender, Khan. It'll save us all a lot of time."

"I have all the time in the world, Kirk. Your CMO, on the other hand, only has a handful of rations at his disposal."

Without warning, the door to Khan's ship slid open; a metallic ball flew out.

The ball rolled; sprayed streaks of light.

"Captain," Spock called. "Those are phaser discharges. The intensity of the beams suggests that the weapon was meant to kill anyone in the docking bay."

"And _there's_ the Vulcan," Khan chimed in. "Should I take your statement to mean that I am not, in fact, surrounded by Starfleet officers?"

Scorch marks formed wherever the light struck; one narrowly missed the docking bay's camera.

"Mister Chekov," Jim said. "Shut that thing down."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim watched as the docking bay's automated defense system came online; vaporized the phaser...ball.

...That was a new one...

"We picked this place for a reason, Khan." Jim smirked. "We don't need people on the ground for you to be surrounded. Surrender."

There was a pause.

...Was Khan actually considering it?

"No, you do not need people." Khan sounded too pleased with himself. "You do, however, need those guns."

Another ball bounced out of the ship.

This time, every strike hit home.

The docking bay's weapons went down in a shower of sparks and smoke.

...Crap.

Khan stepped out of the ship. There was a single–strapped bag slung around his back; a phaser in his right hand; a tricorder in the other. He scanned the room; found the camera; waived.

"My own invention." Khan raised his voice. "The first device collects data on the location of anything that attacks it, and sends that information back to me; the second hones in, and strikes."

Jim rolled his eyes.

What, did the man want a trophy?

The captain gestured for Uhura to switch the comm to the base's overhead system.

"This isn't over," Jim reminded Khan. "You're still stuck down there. Even you can't beam through the shield."

"True. If I could, you would all be dead...But I am nowhere near ready to surrender."

Jim smirked. "Didn't think you were. Chekov?"

A moment later the tricorder in Khan's hand began to flash. The killer cursed; threw his bag to the ground.

"Ze aerosol canisters of anesthesia have been disbursed," Chekov reported.

"Thank you, Ensign."

That ought to…

Oh, come on.

Khan whipped a gas mask out of his bag and strapped it on. The killer staggered; straightened.

"That was not bad, Kirk," Khan said through the mask. "Were I less intelligent, I would not have prepared for that scenario."

Jim pursed his lips. "Yeah, well you're not the only one with a...bag of tricks."

God, that was a bad joke.

Khan chuckled; crossed to the door that led into the main facility. He pulled something from his bag; pressed it to the door; retreated to the ship.

"I've detected another lifesign...tell me that you were not foolish enough to do what I suspect you have done."

Jim grimaced; opened his mouth to respond.

But Admiral Alston beat him to it.

"A member of your crew is being held in the facility you now occupy," Alston declared. "If you destroy that base, you kill one of your own."

"...Who was that, Kirk?"

"I am Admiral Nicholas Alston," the admiral snapped. "I am overseeing this operation."

"...I am sure you are."

The door to the main facility exploded.

Khan strode through the hole while the dust was still settling.

Jim turned to the admiral.

"Admiral Alston," Jim said in a hushed voice. "Sir, if my plan is going to work, I need––"

"You need him to understand the stakes," Alston huffed. "I don't understand why you insist on allowing him to draw this out."

"Sir..." how did this guy not get it? "I am still trying to talk him down. We don't need to resort to your...contingency plan...just yet."

Or ever.

The admiralty's contingency plan made Jim's stomach turn.

The admiral threw up his hands. "Alright. I said I would stay out of it, didn't I?"

...Sure.

"Thank you, Admiral," Jim nodded; turned back to the viewscreen.

Uhura had switched the cameras to the hallway Khan was stalking down. The killer approached a corner; rummaged through his bag; tossed another ball.

"I am curious, Kirk," Khan called out over the phaser fire. "Just how many moves in this little game of ours are from your mind alone?"

...Pretty much all of it...but admitting that could end badly.

"A lot of good people want you captured," the captain said.

More defenses went down. Khan strode through the rubble, clearly allowing his tricorder readings to guide him to his crewmate.

"...I am certain many of those 'good people' around you would prefer I be killed."

Jim shrugged. "Maybe, but I prefer plans where everyone lives."

"You sound like your CMO," Khan laughed. "Do you know...well, of course you don't...that the man actually attempted to convince me he could train a supply ship pilot to be a doctor? For a moment, I was tempted to let him try."

Jim's fingernails dug into his palms again. He knew the answer from the tone of Khan's voice...but they needed confirmation.

"The ship you stole on Xedna Eight was piloted by a man named Jason Nimble," Jim said. "Is he still alive?"

"Not for weeks."

Jim closed his eyes. Nimble had three children and...now...a widow.

"How many more people have to die, Khan?" Jim asked. "How many children need to lose their parents because you have to have your revenge?"

Khan paused to place another explosive on a doorway. Jim knew what was on the other side.

The killer found the hallway's camera; stared into it.

"How much longer will your people treat mine as if they are disposable?"

Jim blinked.

...That man could come up with a comeback.

He was reminded of his conversation with Christine a couple weeks before...

Curbing freedoms in the name of safety…that danger didn't just apply to people officially recognized as part of the Federation.

"Believe it or not, Khan…" Jim said. "I'm working on that."

Khan shook his head. "Of course you are, Kirk: you are an idealist...but in the end, it is not your decision, is it?"

Jim thought for a moment. If his plan was going to work, he needed...

"I don't think you want to use one of those ball–phaser things in the next room...trust me."

The killer raised an eyebrow in surprise. He blew open the door; stepped through without tossing a ball.

Uhura switched the cameras.

Khan scanned his surroundings cautiously as he made his way to the cryotube at the far end of the room.

"So," Khan said. "Which member of my crew is Starfleet threatening today?"

"This isn't a threat," at least, to Jim it wasn't. "It's a reminder."

"Of what? Of why I am fighting Starfleet?"

Jim shook his head. "Of why you should stop. There's a PADD on a table next to the cryotube. Why don't you take a look?"

Khan shrugged; adjusted his course and picked up the PADD. There was a tense pause as Khan read; turned to the room's camera in shock.

"...This is your move?" Khan asked in disbelief.

Jim smirked. "Not what you were expecting?"

"...No. No it is not..."

"It's the best–case scenario, Khan," Jim said. "If you surrender, and tell us where you are keeping B...Doctor McCoy, then your people will be allowed to colonize a planet in the Ceti Alpha system. That is a signed letter from the President of the United Federation of Planets herself, authorizing the colony."

Jim heard Admiral Alston snort behind him. The man had objected to the deal from the start.

...As had a lot of the admirals. They had hoped to capture Khan before this deal had to be offered, but Jim never really doubted that Khan would make it this far into the facility.

"Would I be allowed to join my crew on this planet?" Khan asked.

Jim shook his head. "You've killed a lot of people, Khan. You need to answer for those crimes."

"...I see. And if I still refuse to surrender?"

The Admiral cut in again.

"Your people die," Alston barked. "We will shut down their cryotubes if you refuse to surrender. Starting with the woman in that room."

Jim's eyes went wide. That was _not_ part of the plan, and that was not _going_ to be part of the plan.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Jim asked in shock.

"Carrot and the stick," Alston replied. "Don't they teach you kids how to play hardball anymore?"

"Kirk," Khan growled. "I thought you said this was not a threat."

"It's not," Jim said hurriedly. "The admiral was bluffing...he's not...We're not going to kill anyone, especially not defenseless people in stasis...but if you don't surrender, the deal for the colony goes away, and your people will probably stay in stasis for a very long time."

The admiral glared at him.

"You have no idea how to negotiate, kid."

Jim glared back, but Spock answered first.

"With all due respect, Admiral: Khan has proven to become even more violent when the lives of his people are threatened. It is logical for the Captain to not want to antagonize him."

Alston shook his head in disgust. "Fine. Ignore me. I'm just here to _observe_."

Jim turned back to the viewscreen before he did something that would get him court martialled.

"That's the deal, Khan: surrender peacefully, and release Doctor McCoy, and your people get a new home. What do you say?"

Khan set the PADD down and went to the cryotube; looked at the Augment inside.

"Nitika…" Khan said. "Out of all the members of my crew you could have held here...it is fitting that you chose her."

The captain frowned. He hated that she was down there...He'd wanted to take her out before this whole thing went down, but Admiral Alston had insisted…and Jim was more than a little ticked off now that he understood why.

"How about it, Khan?" Jim asked. "Are you ready to give your people a chance?"

Khan didn't answer; he just stared at his crewmate.

Jim heard Alston grumble something under his breath.

"Khan?" Jim said again.

Khan turned to the camera.

"...How would my...surrender...be accomplished?"

Jim's eyes widened.

...It worked.

It actually worked.

He needed to say something before Khan changed his mind.

"Drop your weapons and bag," Jim said. "And take off the mask. The air is filled with anesthesia; it won't hurt you...just put you under for awhile. We'll lower the facility's shield once you're unconscious, and beam you to a shuttle filled with security officers, who will make sure you're actually unarmed, and then you will be brought onto the Enterprise for arrest and questioning."

Khan nodded in approval. "...A good plan, Kirk. You are far more intelligent than I once gave you credit for; an opponent worthy of my stature...I trust you understand: I will not give up the location of your CMO if any harm should come to Nitika."

It was almost over...Keep it together...

"I do," Jim replied. "We'll have a team beam down to retrieve her, safely, once you're secure."

"...Very well...then I surrender."

Khan threw the phaser across the room. He slipped the bag off his back. After a pause, the killer took off his mask; put it in the bag.

The captain watched with what he could only describe as a cautious joy as Khan slid his back down side of of the cryotube; sat at its base...and closed his eyes.

"Alright," Admiral Alston clapped his hands together; grinned. "Good work, Kirk! Let's get him onboard!"

"Captain," Christine objected. "Khan has had far more exposure to modern anesthetics than any other Augment. He might not be unconscious yet."

Jim nodded. "Thank you, doctor. We'll give it a minute."

The admiral rolled his eyes. "It's done, Kirk. He's out. Let's get him secured, and then we can shut down that cryotube, and be on our way."

Everyone turned to stare at Alston.

"...What did you just say?" Jim asked in disbelief.

He could not have heard him ri––

"I am not letting any more Augments be revived than absolutely necessary," Alston said. "You will write it up as a cryotube malfunction in your reports."

Jim's jaw dropped. "Absolutely not!"

Alston frowned. "I think you're confusing this for a request. This is an order, Captain."

How could he possibly expect him to carry out that order?

"We are not killers," Jim said. "I gave my word that if Khan surrendered, none of his––"

"Kirk, for God's sake, stop being so naive!" Alston snapped. "Khan was right: you _are_ an idealist. But some of us have to live in the real world. What do you think will happen if we release the Augments on Ceti Alpha V? Aggression is programmed into their DNA. If we give them an inch, they'll conquer the entire quadrant."

"It is illogical to assume that all Augments posses Khan's aggressive tendencies," Spock voice was clipped with repressed fury. "What you have ordered us to do violates Starfleet Order Two, which bans the taking of intelligent life without––"

"We have provocation!" Alston shouted. "Khan has killed how many people in the last two years? We need him for the trial...but we won't allow any other threats to be revived."

Jim furrowed his brow. "Who is 'we,' Admiral? Because I have a signed order from the President of the Federation stating that––"

"The President of the Federation was in _Paris_ when San Francisco was attacked!" The admiral's face turned red. "I was there! I watched buildings full of innocent people crumble to the Earth: cut in half like they were matchsticks! I saw what happens when you allowed just one of those Augments to gain control of a ship, and I will be damned if I let it happen again!"

"And so you want us to just kill anyone who might someday be a threat?" Jim gawked. "How will that do anything but make more people hate us? How could that _possibly_ make us safer?"

"Captain," Uhura called over urgently.

Admiral Alston laughed. "If they know what we're capable of, then they won't try to attack us, now will they?"

"Captain!" He'd check in with Uhura in a second. He needed to...

"That's absurd, and you know it!" Jim shouted. "You can't keep anyone safe through fear alone!"

"CAPTAIN!"

Jim turned, annoyed. "What, Uhura?"

Uhura's eyes were wide; she was staring at the viewscreen. Jim followed her gaze.

Khan was on his feet; the gas mask was back in place. He was pressing buttons on the side of the cryotube.

"The comm link was still open, Captain," Uhura said. "The Admiral's order distracted me and...Khan heard everything."

"That I did, _Uhura_ ," Khan growled. His voice sounded slightly slurred. "Fortunately, I elected to hold my breath for the first few moments of my 'surrender,' just to ensure I would not be betrayed. Clearly, I was right to do so."

"I told you!" Admiral Alston yelled. "I told you we could not trust––"

"Shut up, Admiral!" Jim shouted.

Alston trembled with rage. "...Your career is over, Kirk. I will have you––"

As the admiral fumed, Spock approached him quietly from behind; pinched the juncture between Alston's shoulder and neck. The admiral crumpled with a grunt.

Christine rushed over to him with a medical tricorder. "...He's out cold, sir. No permanent damage…"

Jim stared at his first officer, who raised _both_ eyebrows.

...Well...that was going to take some explaining to the other admirals…

...But first...

"Thank you, Doctor Chapel..." Jim turned back to Khan. "Khan, listen, I am not going to––"

"I think I will try simulated drowning with McCoy next," Khan mused. "It will prevent me from being able to determine the exact moment he starts to cry...however, bruises and broken bones can only be entertaining for so long."

...No...

Jim felt like he'd been gutpunched.

...Khan hadn't…

...Oh god…

"Leave Bones out of this," Jim pleaded. "Look: we are _not_ going to hurt––"

"Bones?" Khan laughed as he pulled something out of his bag; zipped it up again. "What a nickname! I cannot _wait_ to see his face the first time I use it."

Jim swallowed.

Keep it together!

"...Nothing's changed, Khan." Jim had to remind himself that. "You're still––"

"I should have known my _pet_ doctor is a friend of yours, Kirk," Khan turned to the camera; tilted his head. "How do you think your friend will feel when he finds out how little your leaders care what happens to him?"

Jim took a breath. "Khan, You are still trapped on that base. We will not––"

"If I cannot trust that a handful of your admirals will not attempt to go back on our arrangement the moment I am in custody," Khan interrupted. "Then it does not matter what you offer me: I will never surrender...and I am not as trapped as you may have been led to believe. I will tell... _Bones_...that you say 'hello.'"

Khan pressed a button on the device in his hand; the video feed cut out.

"Uhura," Jim croaked. "What happened to the viewscreen?"

"I can't reconnect," Uhura said. "It's like the entire system went down!"

"Captain," Spock was back by the main sensor panel. "It appears the device Khan activated released some kind of electromagnetic wave. Electronics throughout the facility have shut down...including the forcefield."

"Can you still pick up his lifesign?" Jim asked.

"Possibly. However, we still cannot beam him here without lowering our shield"

Jim's mouth went dry. "...We'll think of something. Just keep trying."

Khan couldn't get away now. He couldn't. Not after…

"...Captain…" Spock said. "I am not picking up any lifesigns in the facility...Not Khan's, nor his crewmate's…"

...No...

Jim felt something burning in his eyes.

His plan had worked.

It had _worked_!

...But Khan had still gotten away.

Jim heard a groan; turned to see Admiral Alston waking up, with Christine still hovering over him. The admiral pushed her away; stared at Jim in shock and outrage.

...This was gonna be bad.


	29. Chapter 29

"...Sssix...Ssseven...Eh...Ei––"

Leonard's right leg cramped, and he collapsed back onto the floor with a grunt.

"...Dammit…"

Apparently his body was still too pissed at him to do ten pushups in one go.

...Still, a couple days before, he could barely do three...so there was that.

Leonard sighed; used the edge of his biobed to pull himself to his feet. The chain did its stupid little rattly–clink.

The doctor knew he was probably pushing himself too hard. The fall had left him with even more stubborn sore spots that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to treat them. Out of all those spots, the twinging muscles in his right leg were by far the most annoying.

Leonard sat on the edge of the biobed; rubbed his protesting calf.

Maybe he'd missed a bone fragment in his scans. Some tiny little sliver that was digging into...

...If he had, there wasn't much he could do about it. Couldn't really perform surgery on himself, could he? And the other options...

Leonard shuddered as his brain sent him an image of Khan with a hacksaw...

...It was probably just deep bruising in his extensor digitorum and peroneus tertius muscles. They could be kinda hard to hit with noninvasive tech. Given enough time, they'd heal up on their own.

But he needed to keep active; do a little physical therapy. Leonard wasn't about to let his muscles atrophy. He was already far too wea...

"No," Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, Leonard! Get 'em outta your head."

The doctor stretched; laid down on the biobed; stared at the 240 rusty tiles above him. The same tiles he'd been staring at for...

"Twenty–eight days," he muttered. "Chained to a goddamned biobed for twenty–eight freakin' days..."

A part of Leonard wondered why he bothered to keep track. All it did was remind him that he was about to miss _yet_ _another_ of his daughter's birthdays...

Where the hell was Starfleet? Where the hell was Jim?

...Was anybody even trying to find him?

Leonard closed his eyes.

Of course they were. Jim would never stop looking...unless...

No. Jim wouldn't stop. That kid would never give up on one of his friends...even if all he could do was bring a body back...

Leonard sighed. This wasn't helping. He was still bored, and alone. God, he'd even take Khan's company if it meant he didn't have to be...

The doctor's eyes snapped open; he let out a frustrated laugh.

How twisted must his brain be getting for him to _miss_ Khan?

...Maybe it was just nerves. The day before, Khan'd waltzed in, tossed two days worth of rations at him, and marched back on out without an explanation.

The last time something like that had happened, Leonard ended up wrist deep in the killer's stomach, desperately trying to close a knife wound.

...Yeah. That's all it was. He didn't actually want Khan around: he just wanted to know what the hell was happening...and what the hell was going to pop into his...the...medbay...next.

Leonard looked at the biobed to his left. His blanket and PADD were there. He could always write for awhile...although he was running out of things to say that didn't fall into the 'accidentally give Khan emotional fodder' category…

Maybe he could just take another nap…

Leonard stood to grab his blanket. He'd get a little sleep, and then...

...There were swirling lights in the medbay door. Khan's face started to materialize.

"Fantastic," the doctor grumbled. "Now maybe you can tell me…"

There was a woman in Khan's arms. She was unconscious; her face looked almost grey.

"...What the hell happened?"

Khan rushed to the biobed closest to the bookshelves and gently laid the woman down. He ripped a weird gas mask off his face; turned to Leonard.

Khan looked...desperate.

"Save her," Khan ordered.

Leonard nodded as he limped to the shelves; grabbed a medical tricorder.

"What happened to her?" The doctor asked. "I need to know where ta start."

Khan didn't answer.

"Alright," Leonard muttered. "...A full body scan then."

Leonard reached her biobed and began the scan. He frowned; whacked the medical tricorder.

Was it malfunctioning? It was reading her internal body temperature as…

Leonard touched the woman's forehead.

...She was ice cold.

The doctor's hand jolted back; he stared at Khan.

"What did you do?!"

Khan looked away.

Leonard huffed in disbelief. "Look, I don't know what you're expectin' here, but I'm not sure there's anythin' I can do. She's––"

Khan turned back; grabbed him by the throat. Leonard froze.

"Scan her," Khan growled. "Save her."

"I..I don't know if I––"

Khan squeezed.

Leonard choked. His eyes watered; he nodded.

To the doctor's relief, Khan let go.

Leonard rested a hand on his patient's biobed as he caught his breath. He had a pretty good idea who she was, but he still wasn't sure––

"NOW!"

Leonard scrambled to get back to work.

...It didn't take long to realize that there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell of saving her.

"Body temperature, five degrees Celsius…" The doctor rasped. He didn't know if Khan wanted to hear the results of the scans or not, but it seemed like it might be the only way to get through to him. "Severe trauma to the kidneys, lungs, heart, liver, br––"

"What kind of trauma?"

Leonard swallowed; looked up. "It looks...like they're in pieces. Like somebody froze her, thawed her out part way...and then hit her with so much force it literally _shattered_ her internal organs...There's nothing I can do."

Khan stared at him.

Leonard didn't dare move, or even look away. He was pretty sure that if he did, then there'd quickly be _two_ dead people in the medbay. All he could do was stand there, and hope––

"I see."

Khan brushed past the doctor; rummaged through the medical supplies.

"Where do you keep the syringes?"

Leonard blinked.

...What the hell was Khan trying to…

...Oh…

But that...

"It won't work," the doctor blurted.

Khan turned back to him.

... _And_ there was the return of the 'skin you alive' eyes…

" _What_ won't work?"

He should just keep quiet, and let Khan...

...No. He had a responsibility to his patient. What Khan was going to do would, at best, just make her suffer...He couldn't let that happen.

"Your blood," Leonard tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Maybe... _maybe_ if it was just a couple organs...or if they weren't quite this bad... _maybe_ your blood could save her. But Khan...Her _brain_ is fractured. I can't fix that. The best neurosurgeons in Starfleet can't fix that...Even if your blood saves her life, she'll never be the person she was before...I'm sorry."

...For a moment, Khan's expression was blank.

...For another moment, it looked like the killer was going to cry...

Then Khan lashed out.

Leonard's nose didn't stand a chance.

The doctor collapsed from the force of the blow. He groaned in pain; tried in vain to scramble away from the pissed off Augment that was towering over him.

Khan picked him up; dragged him across the room; slammed him against the storage crates.

Leonard went limp. Fighting Khan now was a sure way to earn more broken bones...and probably a broken neck.

"You are _sorry_?" Khan seethed. "You did _nothing_. You did not even _try_ to save her, and yet you are _sorry_?"

Leonard's eyes were too watery to see the killer's face...but he was pretty sure that was a good thing.

"Tell me," Khan shook him. "Tell me why you could not be _bothered_ to save her?"

The doctor gagged on the taste of copper.

"TELL ME!"

"Would you rather I gave you false hope?" The words tumbled out before Leonard could stop them. "Because...those were the options: false hope, or painful honesty. You told me ta never lie to you again, remember? So, I went for painful––"

"Stop! Just...stop...talking."

Leonard complied. His breath came in short pants as he waited for the next blow...

...Khan dropped him.

Leonard crumpled to the floor; curled into a ball.

Over his pounding heartbeat, Leonard heard footsteps moving away. There was the sound of cloth shuffling; a small huff of air...and then more footsteps, and the hissing of the medbay door.

"Clean yourself up. You're dripping blood everywhere."

...Was...Was it over?

...He wasn't about to question it.

"...'Kay…" Leonard nodded as deliberately as he could.

"I will be back, doctor. I need to...I will be back."

More footsteps; the door hissed shut.

Leonard looked up from his ball of legs and elbows. His nose throbbed, but his eyes were clearing up a bit.

Khan was gone; the body was gone.

...Leonard had never been so glad to be alone in his life.


	30. Chapter 30

She was so light.

Khan should not have been surprised by this. He could carry a grown man twice his weight without difficulty, and Nitika had never been anywhere near that heavy.

Yet now...Khan thought she should feel heavier. That his guilt should turn her body to lead...

It didn't.

He could barely feel her weight.

She might as well have been a pillow.

...But she wasn't.

Khan stood in front of a cryotube. He had taken it from Xedna Eight a month before; stowed it away in one of the ship's smaller cargo holds.

It was identical to the one he had been forced to remove Nitika from prematurely when his electromagnetic pulse inadvertently sealed it shut. There must have been a fault in the cryotube's shielding, for it to fail so completely…

How many of his crew were being held in defective cryotubes?

...How many of those cryotubes were defective as a result of Khan's own actions? The torpedoes he had attempted to use to smuggle his crew away two years before had been highly volatile; he might have inadvertently caused the damage himself.

...As he had done to Nitika.

Khan believed McCoy when he said that Nitika's brain had...shattered...from the concussive force of the explosion Khan tried to use to save her. He knew the doctor would not lie about that.

McCoy was an ethical man. A man who would beg for the life of a pilot he had never met. A man who would risk his own health to perform tasks outside his skillset, if that could keep someone else from being forced into servitude...A man who would save the life of his worst enemy.

If McCoy could have saved Nitika, he would not have hesitated to do so.

...Still, that understanding of his captive's nature had almost not been enough to keep Khan from snapping McCoy's neck.

Had the doctor fought him, or pleaded for his life, Khan was certain he would still be punching...whatever was left.

The Augment shifted the woman in his arms; pressed a button on the side of the cryotube. Its top opened with a hiss.

He gently set Nitika inside; smoothed her black hair behind her ears.

She always hated having hair in her face. It distracted her from her work.

Khan closed the top again; pressed another button. Warning lights immediately flashed; nevertheless the freezing process began.

The cryotube could preserve her body; that was more than his ship's slightly older technologies could muster. Those required a heartbeat to continue to function...

This, at least, would be enough to bring her to their new home.

When that time came, Khan could bury Nitika properly; hold a funeral for all the members of his crew that had not survived their long, long journey through time and space.

...A journey that was nowhere near over.

Khan tore himself from Nitika's side. Lingering there would only...he could not stay.

The corridor outside the cargo hold was lined with stasis chambers, emptied years before by Admiral Marcus.

…Why did Starfleet admirals appear to have such poor decision–making skills?

First, Admiral Marcus. Relatively intelligent, but blinded by his ambition.

Then Admiral...what had the man said his name was...Yearling. A paranoid braggart.

Admiral Orwell had appeared competent...but then again, she had left her ship's shields down for far too long.

And Admiral Alston…

Khan would never forget that name.

The name of the man that had single–handedly prolonged this war.

He knew the odds of his surviving long enough to rescue every member of his crew were not high; as such...he would have willingly surrendered under the terms Kirk had offered.

That one action would have made him a martyr to his people: the hero who sacrificed his freedom so that they could have a second chance on a new planet.

His name would have lived forever on Ceti Alpha V.

He could have been content with that legacy.

But now…

Khan's fist found its way through the front of a stasis chamber.

The killer hissed; pulled his hand back.

Shards of glass were sticking out of his knuckles. Blood dripped between his fingers; onto the floor. He could feel small, nearly invisible pieces embedded in his skin.

...Of course.

The trek back to the medbay helped Khan collect himself. These bouts of rage were destructive manifestations of his grief; nothing more. If he did not find another way to process Nitika's death, he might make a mistake that would prevent him from saving the rest of his crew.

That could not happen.

He found McCoy on his biobed, a dermal regenerator frozen halfway to face.

The doctor stared at him, eyes wide with alarm.

Khan took a brief moment to appraise his captive.

McCoy's nose was back where it should be; his bearded face clean of blood. He was in his black undershirt; his blue top forgotten on the floor; smeared with significantly more blood than Khan remembered being on it when he left. The doctor must have fixed his nose, used his shirt to clean the floor, and then attended to his minor injuries.

Along with a swollen left eye, and the bruises surrounding the doctor's nose, Khan's hand was imprinted in yellows and reds around McCoy's neck: a testament to how close the doctor had come to a violent death.

Given the man's nervous stare, McCoy no doubt believed Khan had decided to kill him.

...But what would be the point?

Khan sighed; held up his bleeding hand.

"I require your assistance, doctor."

His captive's face flooded with relief. He nodded; rose stiffly; pointed to the biobed closest to the storage crates.

"Go ahead and take a seat," McCoy rasped. "I'll be right with ya."

Khan watched the doctor limp to the shelves; collected a metal tray of various medical supplies.

From the slow, careful way McCoy moved, he was clearly still in pain.

...The killer thought he should feel more satisfaction from that realization.

Khan waited until the man was halfway to the biobed; then crossed. He noticed McCoy's folded red blanket and PADD on the center of the bed; tossed them onto the storage crates; sat.

"…Sorry. Forgot those were there…"

The doctor finally joined him; set the tray down to Khan's right; picked up a medical tricorder.

Khan held out his still–bleeding hand for McCoy to scan.

"Actual glass," the doctor muttered. "Don't see much of that anymore...'cept in really old houses, and antiques. Most places use transparent alumin––"

"Doctor," Khan growled. "I did not come here to converse."

McCoy's eyes flicked to Khan's; back down to the tricorder.

"Five large pieces, and about a dozen little slivers...nothing too deep for the dermal regenerator...shouldn't take too long to get 'em out."

"Then proceed."

McCoy nodded; set the tricorder and scanner on the biobed; put on a pair of gloves.

"...Numanol?"

Khan nodded his consent; the doctor picked up a hypospray and pressed it into Khan's hand. The irritating pain ebbed away.

McCoy's left hand hovered over Khan's right; finally settled carefully but firmly around Khan's wrist. Leverage, Khan assumed...Unnecessary, as he was perfectly capable of holding his hand still while the doctor worked. It was no doubt simply a reflex on McCoy's part.

The doctor picked up a pair of tweezers.

"Once I'm sure I've got it all, I'll use the dermal regenerator," McCoy said quietly. "Otherwise, I'd have ta cut back in to get at the slivers...Still might need to, if ya heal up too quick on your own."

"I understand."

The doctor nodded; began his work.

With few other places to look, Khan found his gaze wandering from his injured had, to the hand around his wrist; up McCoy's arm and...

There was a long bruise peaking out from the man's short sleeve.

"Doctor," Khan said.

McCoy froze; looked up uneasily.

"...Yeah?"

"Roll up your left sleeve."

The doctor grimaced, but complied.

...It was not just one bruise.

Khan's handprint was wrapped around McCoy's bicep in yellows, reds, and deep violets. It should not have been surprising, given how hard he had grabbed the doctor in his grief–induced rage, and there was little question as to whether or not a similar bruise existed on the man's other arm.

...Yet he could not help but feel...unsettled.

But why? Why was he feeling unsettled about something so trivial as …

...Oh.

...It was because of her.

"It will heal," Khan remarked evenly. "You may continue my treatment."

The doctor did as he was told without a word. The shards of glass tinked as McCoy set them, one by one, onto the metal tray.

Nitika would have disapproved of his treatment of the doctor. Perhaps a part of him had known this before...and perhaps that was what had kept him from snapping McCoy's neck.

"She would have liked you," Khan noted blankly.

The doctor paused; swallowed; pulled out another shard.

"...I assume you mean...the woman that––"

"Her name was Nitika," Khan interrupted. "She was a member of my crew."

McCoy nodded. "I kinda figured––"

"Of course you did," Khan said. "Although I believe you would have been pleasantly surprised to find her to be nothing like me."

"...Okay."

The larger pieces of glass were successfully removed; the doctor wiped away some of the blood with a piece of gauze; started on the slivers.

...It was pointless to tell the doctor anything about his people. McCoy was not a historian; he could not possibly appreciate the complexities of their culture.

...Yet, at the moment, there was only one person who was both conscious and alive that understood Nitika's legacy.

And that was a grievous disservice to her gifts.

"Nitika was not a killer," Khan said. "She was an artist."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up; he stared. "An artist?"

Khan rolled his eyes. "Yes, doctor, an artist. Her spatial reasoning was unsurpassed; her works were the most intricate and mesmerizing cultural artifacts of our century."

"...Huh," the doctor blinked. "I didn't know––"

"Of course you didn't" Khan snapped. "The records of her accomplishments were destroyed after our exile. The usurpers who drove me from power wanted to rewrite history; make every last Augment out to be a monster...Keep working."

McCoy's brow furrowed; he glanced at the tweezers in his hand; apparently remembered what he was supposed to be doing; went back to treating Khan's hand.

"Of course, a few pieces of her art survived," Khan said. "They were given different titles; different creators...Her work was too beautiful to destroy."

"...Anything I might've seen?"

Khan shook his head. "Not unless you have visited Mumbai. They are housed in the National Gallery of Art...the very building she used to curate."

Nitika had not wanted to leave that place behind, but Khan had promised her she would be permitted to continue her art no matter where their ship landed. That she would be the one tasked with ensuring the refined parts of their culture survived...

It was a promise he had not been able to keep.

...He had expected McCoy to respond to that information...but the man remained silent.

"You do not believe me."

The doctor dropped another piece of glass into the tray. "It's not...I just...How many other members of your crew are...artists?"

Khan shook his head. "None...Although she was not the only pacifist onboard. There is a doctor; a teacher; even a cricket player. When the world began closing in, I sent out a call for all loyal Augments to find refuge under my protection. I saved as many of my people as I could."

At least, from the initial threat. Now, if his suspicion about the damaged cryotube casings was correct...they were dying from his mistakes.

"I am not the worst of my people, doctor…" Khan sighed. "However, I am also nowhere near what you would consider the best. What I am is the one they trust to be willing to do whatever is necessary to protect them."

McCoy closed his eyes for a moment; opened them; took a deep breath through his newly mended nose. He set the tweezers down; picked up the tricorder; scanned Khan's hand.

"...There," McCoy set the tricorder back on the tray. "All the thorns should be outta your paw. I'll start on the dermal regenerator."

Khan raised an eyebrow.

...It appeared the revelation about his crew had disturbed the doctor.

Good.

"Nothing to say about my crew?" Khan asked sharply.

McCoy grimaced; picked up the dermal regenerator. "I don't know what you want me to say...So...if ya want me ta say something...I guess...what are you gonna do next?"

Khan huffed out a small laugh.

He had heard worse attempts at changing a conversation topic...but not many.

"Next, doctor...Next I finish repairing my ship...and then I save what is left of my crew...no matter the cost."


	31. Chapter 31

"You...arrested Admiral Alston?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jim couldn't help but think that this was an opportunity for some nice alliteration.

"Yes, Admiral Comsol," Jim nodded to the most senior of the admirals in the center of the viewscreen. The admirals were scattered across the quadrant; Uhura'd had to split the screen into nine segments to fit everybody in. "I arrested Admiral Alston. He's in a holding cell, charged with attempted murder."

Nine sets of eyes blinked at him. A couple of them looked livid...

Admiral Comsol pressed his palms together; touched his fingers to his lips; pulled them away.

"Captain Kirk," Comsol said. "Please…to ensure we understand exactly why you arrested Admiral Alston…repeat the last part of your report."

Jim nodded. "We had Khan cornered on the outpost, and he was willing to surrender under the condition that no more of his crew would be harmed, and that his crew would be allowed to colonize Ceti Alpha V. He even took off his gas mask, and tossed his weapons aside. Then Admiral Alston ordered us to beam him up…and cut power to the cryotube of the Augment being cared for at the outpost."

Admiral Mendez cut in from the top left corner of the split viewscreen.

"He actually ordered you to cut the power?" Mendez asked. "He used those words?"

"He told us to write it up as a cryotube malfunction in our reports," Jim confirmed. "The comm link was still open, so there is a complete audio record of that conversation in the ship's logs. With your permission, I'll have my communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura, play the pertinent segment for you now."

Admiral Comsol nodded. "Proceed."

Jim nodded at Uhura, who played the recording.

The captain hated hearing his own voice...especially when it was shouting stuff that could easily get his ship taken from him, if the admirals disagreed with his decision…

He nodded for Uhura to cut off the recording as Admiral Alston threatened to destroy Jim's career.

"After that, my first officer subdued Admiral Alston so we could attempt to control the damage his order had caused," Jim said. "But Khan wouldn't listen. He said we could not guarantee his crew's safety, and backed out of the deal."

The admirals stared.

"...Dear god…" Admiral Mendez shook his head in disgust. "I knew the attack on San Francisco rattled Alston...but I had no idea he'd go that far."

An exasperated huff came from the middle–right of the screen.

"Maybe he's the only one around here with any sense!" Commodore Enwright said. "Those people are dangerous; keeping them alive puts us all at risk!"

"Your opinion has been noted, Commodore Enwright," Admiral Comsol said. "Although I would remind you that Starfleet is not in the business of executing prisoners, let alone political refugees...even if a few of them have proven to be violent."

"But what if they're all like Khan?" Admiral Westervliet chimed in from the bottom right. "I read the report about what happened to Lieutenant Kim and his crew. The Augments held there behaved...like barbarians. Isn't it better to strike first, and stop a threat that could tear the Federation apart before it has the chance"

Jim bit his tongue. They all outranked him; any one of them could make his life hell if he…

"Killing someone in their sleep is not a preemptive strike," Admiral Nogura declared from the middle left. "It is murder, plain and simple. Kirk, I commend you for refusing that order. Your father would be proud."

A couple of the quieter admirals nodded in agreement, as did Admirals Comsol and Mendez.

Comsol rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're going to need every recording, log entry, and witness account you have, Captain. And you need to bring Admiral Alston to Starbase Six...we will send a security escort there to take Alston back to Earth...pending court–martial procedures."

Jim let out a breath; glanced at his first officer. He'd been pretty worried about Spock...given that he'd technically assaulted a superior officer with that Vulcan pinching–thing. A court–martial was something Jim wasn't sure he could protect his friend from, if it came to that...

...But it looked like they might get out of this with their freedom.

Jim nodded. "Yes, sir. We will set a course immediately."

"You're not out of the woods yet, Kirk," Comsol said. "There's going to be an investigation...but for now, we are taking you off transport duty. If this incident proves anything, it's that Khan has no idea where his crew is being held. If he did, he would have gone after them long ago...There's no point in moving them anymore."

Jim nodded again. "I understand, sir. What are our new orders?"

"...Shore leave."

Jim's eyes widened. "But sir, with all due respect: Khan is still out there. He's still holding Bo...Doctor Leonard McCoy...my CMO. We can't give up the search now."

"Do you really believe that doctor is still alive?" Admiral Enwright decided to blurt. "Stop being so naive."

Comsol flashed a glare at Enwright's screen. "I think the briefing is over, Admirals. Everyone sign off, except for the Enterprise. That's an order."

After a chorus of "Yes, sirs," the nine segments in the viewscreen popped down to one.

Comsol shook his head. "We are not giving up, Kirk. I hope you're right about Doctor McCoy...but we don't have any leads. We have no more ideas about where Khan might be hiding than we did a month ago...And the Enterprise has been on nonstop missions for nearly a year. You were originally scheduled to go on shore leave a few days ago...Admit it: your crew needs a break."

Jim cringed; looked around at his bridge crew.

The admiral was right: they were exhausted. Physically and mentally, he could see his fatigue reflected in their eyes...

He could only imagine how Scotty and Keenser felt down in Engineering, trying to keep the Enterprise running at top speed for a month without breaking something important.

Then there was Doctor M'Benga...when it came down to it, M'Benga was still a pretty new doctor. Bones had handpicked M'Benga fresh out of Starfleet Academy's medical program the year before; the man hadn't been a doctor for more than a month before coming onboard...And yet now he'd taken over all of Bone's responsibilities; kept the crew healthy while Jim borrowed Christine for Augment–related consults.

And Christine...a month out from her fiancee's death, she was still fighting through her grief.

Jim was incredibly proud of his crew; of their ability to roll with the punches…but how could any of them not be ready to collapse?

"They do need some rest, sir," Jim reluctantly agreed.

Admiral Comsol nodded. "Drop off Admiral Alston at Starbase Six, and then go somewhere quiet. Report back in two weeks with a clear head. If we get a lead, we'll call you back in early."

"Yes, sir," Jim said. "...Thank you."

Admiral Comsol tapped a button on his chair; the signal cut out.

Jim closed his eyes; sighed. This was nowhere near over...but at least it looked like neither he nor Spock was headed off to jail...so that was a plus.

But two weeks? Two _weeks_ practically banned from searching for Bones?

"Good work, everyone," Jim said. "Mister Chekov; Mister Sulu: get us to Starbase Six."

"Aye, Captain," Sulu said; Chekov nodded.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Jim turned to his first officer. "Commander Spock, you have the conn."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Captain?"

"I'm fine, Spock," Jim forced himself to smile. "Don't worry: I'll be back in a few."

"...Very well, Captain."

With a nod, Jim walked to the turbolift; pressed the button for deck eight.

He waited for the door to close; waited until the turbolift got to deck four…and then stopped it; rested his forehead against the wall.

"We had him," Jim whispered to himself. "We had him, and we lost him...again."

How many more people would die because of this?

They were being forced to take a freaking vacation, when Khan had been on the loose for over a...

A month.

The most compassionate man Jim had ever known had been the prisoner of that psychopath for a month.

What was Khan doing to his best friend?

Khan's threat about...drowning...Bones clawed back into Jim's mind.

He shivered; ran a hand through his hair; closed his eyes.

Bones didn't deserve this. The guy just wanted to be someplace where he had friends, could help people, and could still see his daughter from time to ti…

...Joanna.

Jim's eyes snapped open.

"Oh, god...Joanna!"

They hadn't been allowed to tell anyone outside Starfleet what had happened. Panic; rumor mills; all those complicated reasons to keep it classified.

But Joanna's birthday was in three days...and she was still expecting Bones to show up.

In a daze, Jim pressed the button for deck two; restarted the turbolift. He found himself halfway to Bone's quarters before he even thought about what he was going to do when he got there. All he had to do was give his override code, and he was in.

No one had been in Bone's room for twenty–nine days...and it was weird being there without him. His bed was unmade; there were stale crumbs on a plate on his desk, next to a stained coffee mug. If Jim had to guess, he'd say Bones had scarfed down a quick lunch before...everything.

Jim scanned the room. If he knew Bones like he thought he did, then Bones would've found a present for Joanna months ago.

...There.

A small box on the bookshelf, with a little blue ribbon around it.

Jim crossed; picked it up; carefully removed the ribbon.

The box held a small figurine of what looked like a teddy bear with fangs, and a note:

 _Happy Birthday Jo!_

 _A certain Vulcan ambassador told me a story about this pet he used to have called a sehlat. He said his mother used to tell people the story to embarrass him. Can you imagine, an embarrassed Vulcan? Because I don't have to imagine anymore._

 _I know how much you like weird alien animals, so I had this made for you in a shop on Starbase Three. Remember, the next time you meet some stern–looking Vulcan kid at school, or anywhere else: they keep these things as pets._

 _I hope that makes your day like it did mine._

 _I love you Jo,_

– _Dad._

Jim's vision started to blur; he put the note and figurine back in the box; re–tied the ribbon.

The captain went over to the comm system, box in hand.

"Mister Chekov?" Jim said.

"Aye, sir?"

"How far is Starbase Six to the Cerberus System?"

"About four days, sir."

Jim closed his eyes. They wouldn't make it in time…

"The second we finish transferring Admiral Alston to Starbase Six, I want to head there," Jim said. "Please plot a course."

"Aye, sir."

Jim smiled. "Thanks, Chekov...Uhura?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I need you to get in touch with Donna and Fred Withers in the Cerberus System," Jim said.

"Captain?"

"Donna is Bones' sister; his daughter's staying with them." Hopefully they could get through...

"...Of course, Kirk. I'll track them down."

"Thanks, Uhura. Tell Spock not to get too antsy. I'll be back up soon. Kirk out."

Jim left Bones' quarters; locked them behind him; marched down the hall with a new mission.

If he couldn't look for Bones, then he'd at least make sure Joanna got her present.

Jim wouldn't let her think she'd been forgotten.


	32. Chapter 32

Two minutes left.

Leonard rested on his side on his biobed; stared at the clock on his PADD. The light emanating from it gave the dark room a faint blue glow.

The doctor suppressed a yawn. He knew he should just go to sleep: Khan'd wake him way too damn early to work on...god knew what...no matter how late he stayed up.

He really wasn't sure what he was hoping for. Wasn't like time was gonna stop or anything. Wasn't like…

If he was dead on his feet the next day, Khan'd wanna know why...and it was a tossup as to how nicely the guy would ask.

But he couldn't sleep. Not now. He needed this moment: this one time when he was on his own, and could safely bet that Khan wouldn't come barging in to threaten him or beat him or...to chitchat.

...Only a minute to go now.

Khan kept telling him stories about Nitika. Stories about an Augment so kind and compassionate, it was near impossible to believe she could've been friends with the guy that had kidnapped him. The way Khan talked about her...she reminded Leonard of his little sister...

And that freaked him out more than almost anything had in the past month.

Were any of the stories even true?

...Did the stories mean that Khan was lonely? Or trying to toss an olive branch his way after all this hell?

...Or was it just that Leonard was a captive audience the sociopath could vent his grief to without caring what it did to him?

…It was probably the last one…

Leonard blinked, and the clock read 2261.129 00:00.

…It was midnight.

On May 9th.

The doctor felt a lump in his throat. He drew a deep breath; tried to will away the tears forming in his eyes.

...That was it.

Joanna was officially twelve.

"Happy birthday, Jo…" Leonard whispered.

He switched off the PADD.

In the darkness, a sob shuddered through him. He tried to stop it; tried to stay strong. God, he needed to stay strong...

...But Joanna was twelve.

His daughter was twelve…and he'd never see her again.

The tears started flowing.

If Khan couldn't or wouldn't cure him, the xenopolycythemia would kill Leonard before Joanna turned thirteen. And if Khan did cure him, it meant he'd probably spend decades as Khan's prisoner.

Either way, Leonard would never see Joanna grow up. He'd never see her smile again, or hear her laugh, or…

The goddam chain on Leonard's ankle clinked as he curled in on himself.

He didn't know how much longer he could do this. It'd only been a month, but he could barely remember what it felt like to feel safe; to feel like he wasn't constantly putting his friends and family in danger.

How much longer could he walk on eggshells to keep Khan from hurting anybody he loved? How much time did he have before the guy started blowing up random people on Earth, or decided he was better off killing Leonard and kidnapping a new doctor?

How little choice he had in all of this made him feel sick and exhausted and pissed and...

"Come on, Leonard…" the doctor muttered. "Come on…Pull yourself together…"

The doctor ignored the protest from his left side as he forced himself to sit up; rubbed his eyes on his sleeve.

Leonard sniffed; took a deep, shuddering breath.

He couldn't think like that. He had to fight against the hopelessness that kept worming its way into his mind.

...And he only had one real option.

Leonard switched the PADD back on. As far as he knew, Khan hadn't looked at it since the fall…and a few days before, Khan had called his "desire to document" his kidnapping "quaint but dull."

Not exactly the words the doctor would use...but Khan's disinterest gave him a paper–thin layer of privacy. A place he could vent...

He started a new text file, and turned on the dictation feature. It was a general rule: new day, new file; talking to himself instead of keeping everything in his head.

"Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy," Leonard swallowed; cleared his throat. "Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. Captive's log number...twenty–two. Stardate 2261.129."

God, that opener was getting old...

"It's May 9th…I've been Khan's prisoner going on thirty–one days…Yesterday wasn't too bad: I can officially say that it's been...thirty six hours since he last hit me…so there's that..."

Leonard sighed; closed his eyes.

What the hell was he doing? This was Joanna's birthday! He didn't wanna do injury reports and self–psychoanalysis! He just wanted to…

He closed the text file; searched around a bit on the PADD. He knew it had a camera. He'd taken a couple photographs of his injuries on it in the past...just in case Khan got captured, and put on trial again...and he wasn't around to testify. He thought he'd seen an audio feature somewhere…

There it was.

If he didn't say her name; if he kept it simple and short, and didn't get weird if Khan suddenly decided he wanted to read his journal entries…this should be okay...

The doctor tapped "record;" a red light started to blink on the PADD; a waveform started running across the screen. He let it record about twenty seconds of hand–tapping and other nonsense noises before he began.

"Heh…" The waveform expanded and contracted with his voice. "Hey...sweet pea...I just wanted to let you know that...I didn't forget. And I wanted to be there...more than anything."

Leonard frowned.

It wasn't enough. If Joanna ever heard this, how could that be all he left her with?

An old lullaby popped into Leonard's head; he started to sing.

"You are my Sunshine,

My only Sunshine…

You make me happy

When skies are grey…

You'll never know dear

How much I love you…

So please don't take

My Sunshine away…"

Leonard bit his tongue; forced himself to stop after the first verse; to not start crying again…

He stopped the recording; stared at it.

...He might've said too much...but he couldn't bear to erase it and try again.

The doctor turned off the PADD; set it carefully on the floor by his biobed; laid back down.

He needed to at least try to sleep. He wanted to keep Khan in a good mood…especially for the next twenty–four hours...

Leonard wasn't about to get himself killed on Joanna's birthday.


	33. Chapter 33

Over the years, Spock had come to understand how seriously many Humans took birthdays.

On Vulcan, his mother once attempted to "throw him" a birthday party, with...awkward...results. The Vulcan children Amanda invited took notes throughout the event; quizzed both Spock and his mother on the cultural significance of wrapping presents, lighting candles just for them to be blown out moments later, and pinning a "tail" on a "donkey."

From what he understood, his birthday party led to over a dozen research papers into Human traditions...but the event did not lead to Spock acquiring friends as...his mother...had hoped it would.

Nevertheless, Amanda had persisted. Every year on Spock's birthday, she would make a cake, tie a conical hat to his head, and present him with a gift wrapped in decorated paper.

Sarek would look on with a raised eyebrow, but he never interfered. And on Amanda's birthday, every year, Sarek even insisted that Spock honor his mother's tradition as well.

"God, did Bones say Joanna's favorite color is green...or blue?"

However, Spock had never witnessed someone taking as much time to find a gift as his captain was currently insisting upon.

"What do you think?" Jim held up two nearly identical model starships for Spock's approval. "This one can fly, but this one's got cool flashing lights and sound effects…"

Spock glanced around the marketplace. This was their third trip to this particular kiosk, and Jim had yet to purchase anything. The shop owner was beginning to look...irate.

"If Doctor McCoy's daughter is anything like I suspect, she will appreciate the lesson in aerodynamics the flying model will offer," Spock said.

Jim grinned. "You're right: that way she can dive bomb people, or attach a camera to it and take cool aerial videos."

"It does offer the most versatility of the two options," Spock agreed. "And...I feel I must remind you that there are only twenty minutes left before we are supposed to arrive at her home."

The captain's eyes went wide. "Crap! Flying starship it is. Thanks, Spock!"

"You are welcome, Captain."

Jim rolled his eyes; gestured to his civilian clothing. "We're on shore leave, Spock. You can call me Jim."

Spock nodded as his friend placed the gift in a blue bag he had found at another kiosk a few minutes before; patted his jacket pocket absently. Jim had placed a small box wrapped in blue ribbon there before they began shopping, and appeared nervous that he might accidentally lose it.

They made their way out of the maze of stalls at a brisk pace. If Spock had memorized the route correctly, then it should only take them ten minutes to reach the road the Withers lived on, and another two minutes to reach their home.

This gave them approximately seven minutes for possibly delays or...distractions.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Jim looked at him worriedly.

"I believe so, Jim."

The captain sighed. "Sorry I took so long picking something. I just...I honestly have no idea what I'm going to say when we get there, and I was hoping...I don't know what I was hoping."

Spock understood what Jim meant. They had contacted Donna and Fred Withers five days before, and informed them of Leonard's...abduction. The exchange had been as emotional as Spock had expected…

"It will be difficult," Spock said. "However, I believe they will be grateful for the information you can provide that could not be transmitted over open frequencies."

The details they had been authorized to give them via subspace had been, to put it simply, lacking. No mentions of Khan, or Augments, or any real explanation as to why a member of their family had been taken from the Enterprise.

"I wish I'd been allowed to tell them more..." Jim said. "But...at least I can fill in some blanks for them while we're here...I should probably try to get ahold of his mom back on Earth too..."

Spock thought for a moment. "Would it also be appropriate to contact Joanna's mother?"

Jim shrugged. "Not much of a point. She gave up guardianship of Joanna during the divorce...and...well...it's not a good idea to bring her into this."

Spock raised an eyebrow. He did not know the details of Leonard's divorce; it could be considered indulgent to press the issue...however…

"Jim," Spock said cautiously. "In order to avoid accidentally transgressing upon a sensitive topic when we arrive at the Withers' household...I feel I must ask: why did Doc...Leonard...leave his daughter with relatives in order to join Starfleet? He always claims that he would be far happier back on Earth, and now that I know he has a daughter, this claim has some logic behind it. And yet, Leonard chose to leave––"

"It wasn't that simple, Spock." Jim shook his head. "Look, I don't think Bones would want me to get into too much detail...and I'm not even sure he's told me everything...but before he joined the Academy...life got a bit...rough. He ended up voluntarily giving legal guardianship of Joanna to his sister. Bones can still visit whenever he gets the chance…but he thought this was the best way to make sure Joanna was happy."

Spock came close to frowning. He was having difficulty imagining a situation in which the doctor would feel his presence could be detrimental to his daughter's happiness...however Jim's tone told him that pressing on with this conversation would be fruitless.

"I see," Spock said simply. "Thank you, Jim. I will be sure to avoid the topic during our visit."

Jim laughed dryly. "Yeah, that wouldn't be the best ice–breaker...although I don't really have a better one right now...Man, I wish we'd been able to get here three days ago...Arrive in the middle of the birthday party, and be able to comment on the decorations, or the frosting, or something..."

As they quietly turned onto the street where the Withers' resided, Spock realized he did not even know what Joanna looked like...

"Do you know if Joanna bears any resemblance to Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked.

Jim sighed. "I honestly don't know. In the picture Bones showed me, she looks a little like him: same hair color; same eyes...but she's lived with her aunt and uncle for over six years. Personality–wise...I have no idea––"

A high–pitched shout echoed down the street.

"Darn it, Jessica! I'm telling you that tribbles would make awful pets! I don't care what Ron says: they're just breeding balls of hair!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. The voice appeared to be coming from the back yard of the Withers' residence. Logic would indicate...

Jim blinked; smirked; snorted; finally relaxed.

"Well, I'd say it's a safe bet they've got at least one thing in common: they're painfully honest!"


	34. Chapter 34

He was almost ready.

Khan ran another diagnostic on the hybrid systems of the Botany Bay. He had finally attached thrusters to the underside of the ship: a simple project, even though he had been forced to perform the manual labor himself.

To his credit, McCoy had not objected when Khan told him to put on an environmental suit…however, as Khan had suspected might occur, the doctor turned pale and began to sweat profusely when the suit was actually presented to him.

It would have been foolish to risk sending a man that terrified of falling back out onto the hull. Instead, Khan had allowed McCoy to work on a series of chores in the medbay. The doctor had appeared grateful for the...compromise.

The panel Khan stood beside flashed; he smiled.

Another diagnostic complete; another success. No coding errors; no defects in the welding; no conflicts in the remote activation sequence. The anti–gravity thrusters he designed were fully operational.

When the time came, Khan could launch and land the Botany Bay without incident.

All that was left were simple tasks: removing rust and corrosion; replacing the half burned–out electric bulbs with something more durable; fixing the heating elements that would allow them to have hot water...at last.

Luxuries. Chores Khan could leave McCoy to work on...while he worked on new weapons, and implemented the next phase of his plan.

Khan brought up the day's communication logs; ran his skimming program. He did not trust any of the lower level reports anymore. A few days before, the Enterprise had contacted a farming colony through open channels...and then redacted the contents of the conversation from the official record. An easily–identified ruse.

However, there could still be clues in any misinformation Starfleet attempted to feed him, and he had taken the risk of hacking into another level of encrypted communications in an attempt to find more accurate information.

It was in those higher encryptions that he finds yet another reference to this Cerberus farming colony...once again from the Enterprise. As he read, he could not help but laugh at the obviousness of the ploy.

Shore leave?

Did Kirk truly expect him to believe the Enterprise would go on shore leave in the middle of their pursuit? If the captain thought it would be that easy to lure him into another trap, he would be sorely mistaken. Now that the Botany Bay was space worthy, he had no need to play Starfleet's games.

...Nevertheless, the false report could be useful.

Khan downloaded the communique onto a spare PADD; headed for the medbay.

Ever since Khan had begun telling McCoy about his friend's peaceful past, the doctor had become far more...receptive...to Khan's commands. Perhaps Nitika's history made it easier for the doctor to relate to his captor; to see things from his point of view. The past three days especially had brought about a significant decrease in angry looks and grumbled complaints.

It appeared McCoy was finally, truly, accepting that Starfleet would never find him; his only chance for leading whatever remained of his life with any semblance of comfort was to stop fighting.

Khan intended to nurture this shift; this false report could do just that.

When he reached the medbay, Khan was surprised to find McCoy near the back of the room, draping dripping shirts over the edge of the storage crates. The doctor tensed slightly; stopped his work.

That reaction would fade with time...

"Good evening, doctor," Khan nodded to him.

McCoy nodded back. "Evenin'...Everything alright?"

"I am fine," Khan smiled. "Might I ask what you are doing?"

The doctor shrugged; pointed to the open door of the small washroom in the back of the medbay.

"Just doin' a little laundry…I'm nearly out of clean shirts, so I thought I'd take a little soap and water ta some of the less…grungy…things I had."

Khan nodded. "A good plan: it is best not to be wasteful. Although, if you ever need new uniforms, you may simply ask for them. What I provided you with is only a fraction of what I have in storage."

McCoy grimaced; lowered his eyes.

"...Thanks."

Khan tilted his head. Why was the doctor suddenly…

...Ah.

Of course, McCoy understood where those uniforms came from…and he was painfully empathetic towards people he had never met.

Well, it would make for a good transition.

"It is astounding," Khan mused.

McCoy glanced back up at him. "...What's astounding?"

Khan shook his head. "That you can be so compassionate...and so...loyal...to people who care so little about you. People who are celebrating, even as you remain missing."

The doctor's eyebrows furrowed. "...What are you talking about?"

Khan held up the PADD; crossed to McCoy.

"I discovered this in today's communications logs," Khan held out the PADD.

The doctor took it cautiously; read the communique.

Khan smirked in satisfaction as McCoy's eyes widened in shock. He knew what would flicker across the man's face next.

Betrayal. Pain. Rage.

The doctor had been abandoned, after all. Those would be his only...

McCoy smiled.

It was so small: a slight crinkling of the eyes; the lips barely twitching upwards…yet it was unmistakeable.

"...You're _happy_ ," Khan muttered.

The smile vanished instantly.

"Just relieved to see they're okay," McCoy shrugged. "Never know what might happen out there."

The doctor tried to hand back the PADD.

Khan narrowed his eyes; felt anger roll through him.

...A lie.

McCoy had just lied to him.

"No."

Khan knocked the PADD out of the doctor's hand.

McCoy flinched; took a step back.

The killer matched him; kicked the Padd out of his path as he advanced.

"That was not relief I saw," Khan growled. "That was happiness. Why are you happy that the Enterprise went to the Cerberus System?"

Another step back; another step matched.

"I...I'm honestly not hap––"

Khan slapped him.

The doctor spun; his feet tangled in his chain; he fell.

"Oh, come on!" McCoy groaned; rolled onto his back.

He looked...outraged.

How could the doctor have the audacity to be outraged? Khan had taught him the rules of his captivity multiple times.

Lies were intolerable. McCoy knew this.

...Perhaps the fear of dishonoring Nitika's memory had made Khan too soft; he had let McCoy become too comfortable, too quickly...perhaps the doctor needed to be reminded…

It was...regrettable...but necessary.

The killer quickly knelt next to his captive; pinned him to the floor with a hand to the throat.

Khan felt the man's pulse race against his fingers. Such a fragile thing...

"Doctor, doctor…" Khan tisked. "We have gotten along so well the past few days…It would be a pity for that to change. So, I will give you one more chance. Do not lie to me: why were you happy?"

"It…" Khan felt McCoy swallow. "It was nothin'...Just an old joke I used to––"

Khan squeezed.

The doctor instinctively tried to pull Khan's hand away. The killer brushed his hands off like they were nothing more than clinging cobwebs.

"It was not a joke," Khan stated. "I need to know if there is something of value in that system. A weapon; a technology; a member of my crew..."

He eased his grip; McCoy gasped for air.

Khan's hand slipped up to his captive's chin; forced him to look him in the eye.

"Doctor, is a member of my crew being held in the Cerberus System?"

"I don't…" McCoy coughed; winced. "I don't know where any of 'em are. I swear...I never knew..."

That rang true...and made sense. The Federation had no reason to share the locations of his crew with a starship's CMO...even that of their flagship. It was the main reason he had not asked McCoy that question before.

But then what was it? Why had the man smiled?

"The first transmission I noted between the Enterprise and Cerberus was five days ago, hours after...Nitika died." Khan's hand slowly slid back around McCoy's throat. "If this system has nothing to do with my crew, then how do you explain the timing of that transmission?"

The doctor grimaced.

"A coincidence. They must've––"

Wrong answer.

His hand tightened around the doctor's throat again. Khan waited until McCoy's lips began turning blue; then released him. The doctor wheezed.

Why was the man resisting so strongly now? The past few days had been…

…Nothing but compliance.

How could he have not seen that as odd?

"Three days ago...your behavior shifted," Khan said. "You became more amiable; less resistant to my orders...what was so special about that day?"

The fear in McCoy's eyes flashed to panic, but he said nothing.

"Come now, doctor," Khan sighed. "Whatever you are protecting...it is not worth what I will do to you if you continue to be this stubborn."

Still...nothing.

What was he missing? What details might he have overlooked? What...

He remembered.

If the doctor insisted on being difficult, there was something else he could check.

Khan rose with a growl; McCoy started to inch away.

"Leave that spot, and I will break your leg."

The doctor laid back down.

Khan sneered.

"Good boy."

Khan found McCoy's journal where it always was; brought it back over.

The doctor looked up at him, clearly nervous. A handprint was half hidden by the man's beard; bruises were beginning to form around his neck.

Khan buried the...stirrings...of unease he felt at their sight under a layer of resolution.

"Now then," Khan sat next to McCoy. "Let's see what's been on your mind."

The doctor didn't say a word as Khan flicked through his last five days of journal entries. McCoy had a flare for the dramatic: he described his guilt over not being able to save Nitika in great detail; he questioned the accuracy of Khan's stories; he even kept track of how long it had been since Khan had last struck him. Apparently, he had been nearing a record before today's incident.

...But there was nothing in those entries that could tell him what McCoy was hiding.

Khan dug deeper; checked for anything the doctor might have hidden elsewhere on the…

...There was an audio file buried in a subfolder. It was created on 2261.129...three days ago.

"What is this?" Khan showed the file to McCoy.

"I…" the doctor cleared his throat. "I bumped it when I went ta start that day's log...didn't realize it till about a minute in."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "Do you truly expect me to believe that?"

"...Listen if ya want. All that's on there's breathing and typing. It's a waste of time."

...If he had never heard of a bluff before, Khan still would have recognized that as one.

"Well then…" Khan huffed. "It is a good thing that I have time to kill."

He started the recording.

...And the sound of tapping fingers and shifting cloth came from the speakers.

"I told ya, nothin' but––"

"Quiet."

...More tapping...

Had McCoy told the truth about the file? If so, then Khan would have no choice but to––

" _Heh...Hey...sweet pea…"_

Khan's eyebrows shot up. He looked at McCoy. The man's eyes were squeezed shut; his lips were pressed into a pale line.

" _I just wanted to let you know that...I didn't forget. And I wanted to be there...more than anything."_

...Sweet pea…

...That was a child's nickname.

What child could McCoy have been that concerned about––

" _You are my Sunshine…My only Sunshine..."_

Khan's eyes widened; his mouth twitched into a crooked, disbelieving smile.

" _You make me happy…"_

...McCoy was singing a lullaby.

" _When skies are grey…"_

And like a jolt of electricity, Khan recalled the name McCoy had whimpered in his sleep three weeks before.

" _You'll never know, dear…"_

The name of a young patient the doctor claimed had been dead for years…

" _How much I love you…"_

…Except that was not true, was it?

" _So please don't take…My Sunshine away."_

Khan stared at his captive, and understood.

"You have a daughter," Khan breathed. "Joanna is your daughter."

McCoy's eyes flew open. He shook his head slowly.

"...No. Joanna was a patient. I told ya about––"

Khan took hold of the doctor's throat once more.

"Stop lying," Khan ordered; realized... "Three days ago...it was your daughter's birthday, wasn't it?"

"I...I don't have a daught––"

Khan squeezed; watched the man's eyes scream.

"Yes, you do." It all made sense now. "She lives on a planet in the Cerberus System; that is why you smiled. Your captain...he is bringing something to her: something for her birthday. You realized this, and smiled. Just admit it, and I will stop hurting you."

The killer loosened his grip; McCoy shuddered in a breath.

"...Yer...wrong."

Khan sighed in exasperation. What did the man think his continued lies would achieve? Whether McCoy admitted it or not, Khan now knew the truth.

...And if the doctor wanted to make this a test of wills...then Khan would win.

"Very well..." The terrorist lightly brushed his thumb up and down McCoy's neck. "Let me make this easier for you: one of my bombs is buried beneath a playground in Atlanta. Admit you have a daughter, or at lunchtime tomorrow, I will set it off."

Khan felt the doctor's heart skip a beat; saw the exact moment a war ignited behind McCoy's eyes.

Would the man risk his own flesh and blood, or force other families into mourning? The decision could not be easy, especially for someone sworn to save lives…

Perhaps he should tip the scales a little more...

"Doctor," Khan leaned in so close he could feel the man's ragged breath hit his face; see spots of green in McCoy's panicked, brown eyes. "There are dozens of children counting on you. You alone can save them. Just tell me this, and they will be safe: how old is your daughter? How old is Joanna?"

The doctor's bottom lip trembled. His eyes shone; when he blinked, tears rolled down his cheeks. He opened his mouth; closed it…

Then, finally...

"...Twelve," McCoy whispered. "She...she's twelve."

Khan's lip twitched. "Now, was that so hard?"

The killer released McCoy's throat; moved slightly away.

"You may sit up, if you wish."

McCoy pushed himself off the floor; hugged his knees to his chest. His eyes were red; inflamed; desperate.

"Please...Khan," McCoy rasped. "Please...don't hurt her…"

He could not blame the man for begging. Not this time.

"Doctor," Khan said carefully. "Her safety depends entirely upon you. If you are good; if you do what I ask...then I will never seek her out. If not...well…"

There was no need to finish the threat.

...And a few more questions could not hurt now.

"...Are you married, Doctor?"

McCoy swallowed; grimaced; shook his head.

"Divorced...for a little over six years...I...it didn't end well.''

"Any other children?"

"No."

"A new significant other?"

The doctor laughed dryly; winced.

"...Haven't had so much as a second date in over a year."

"...I see."

At the beginning of his captivity, the doctor had said that his life had fallen apart before joining Starfleet; that the organization Khan held in such disdain had become McCoy's refuge.

At the time, Khan had not understood what that meant...but now he thought he might.

The killer studied the man in front of him; realized that, although what would happen next needed to happen...he could not help but feel some regret. This would set McCoy's conditioning back...considerably.

"Doctor," Khan sighed. "You have lied to me over and over again today...and apparently, you have been lying to me for weeks. You know I cannot let that behavior go unpunished."

McCoy's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Ya mean stranglin' me and threatening a whole bunch of kids wasn't enough for you?"

Khan scowled; felt his anger flare again.

After all of this, how could McCoy act so insolent?

Khan rose; towered over the doctor; watched the man's veneer of defiance crumble.

...Perhaps he could make good on a number of threats simultaneously.

"You seem to like making recordings, Doctor," Khan growled. "Why don't we make one together?"


	35. Chapter 35

Christine had to admit: out of all the planets they could have gone to for shore leave, Cerberus wasn't half bad.

The main population centers focused on farming, but it was a big planet. It had forests and beaches and lots of little places where a tired crew could let off some steam.

To keep the Enterprise running smoothly, the shore leaves for the command crew were being staggered. The day before, Jim and Spock had met with Doctor McCoy's family, and two of Pavel's friends from engineering had taken their first day off to go on a "restocking mission," which the navigator told Christine was code for "tracking down ze weirdest and best booze ze planet has to offer, and bringing casks of et back to ze ship." Those shore leaves were successes all around.

Now, Jim was back onboard for a few days, Spock and Uhura were preparing to meet with a group of locals that used a form of sign language they had never studied before, and Pavel's friend Hikaru was off studying a new peach hybrid with fruits the size of a beach ball.

...And Christine sat by the ocean; eyes closed; listening to the waves; smelling the brine in the air. The weather was perfect: nothing but blue skies and sun.

It was a nice beach. Quiet. The closest town was behind miles of blue–tinted trees, and the breeze brought bird calls across the water.

If she kept her eyes closed long enough, she could almost forget she'd ever been anywhere else. That anything––

A small snore to her left broke her concentration.

Christine glanced over at her friend; smirked.

Apparently Pavel had worn himself out swimming. He was fast asleep on the sand, head cradled in his hands.

Christine's broad–brimmed hat bounced as she shook her head.

From a medical perspective, the risk of getting sunburned here was high...but they also spent most of their time on a starship, and it was important to get some natural vitamin D from time to time.

...Plus, if Pavel was going to be stubborn about sunscreen, then he deserved to be a lobster.

The navigator snored again. Loudly.

Christine couldn't hold back a laugh.

Pavel's eyes blinked open; he sat up with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry," he said. "Ze sun was just so warm and...How long was I asleep?"

"Oh, about fifteen minutes," Christine smiled. "We've still got a few hours before we need to beam back."

"Okay," Pavel stretched. "Are you certain you don't want to swim?"

She shook her head. "I'm good. I'm just enjoying the fresh air. This is the first time I've been somewhere with a real atmosphere in...well, almost a year...a little more than that, depending on how you count my time next to the black hole..."

"Aye," Pavel nodded. "It's been a wery long time for me too. Ze Ceptin usually keeps me on ze ship for away missions."

"Well, of course he does," Christine shrugged. "You're the navigator, and a wiz with the transporters. If something happens on an away mission, he wants you up there, ready to bring him back."

The navigator slouched; scooted closer to her across the sand.

"I know you're right...but zose missions look like so much fun! I just want some excitement...excitement zat doesn't come with ze entire Enterprise being in danger."

Christine couldn't help but thinking that Pavel should be careful what he wished for. Excitement was overrated. She'd take a boring day with Roger over…

...Well...she'd take a day with Roger...no matter what kind of day it was…

"Maybe you should transfer to security," Christine joked. "They get to go on away missions all the time."

Pavel laughed. "Zat's okay: I spent enough time in a red shirt ze time Mester Scott went away. I like gold much better."

"Well, it definitely suits you," Christine said.

The navigator looked down.

"...Spasibo..."

Christine blinked.

...Either the navigator was blushing, or his sunburn was coming on with a vengeance.

Pavel's hand cautiously slipped over hers.

...Oh, crap.

"Pavel," Christine slowly pulled her hand away. "What are you doing?"

Her friend's eyes widened; his mouth dropped open.

"Oh! I...I am so so sorry! I thought...um...I thought...you...I…"

"Did you..." This was going to be awkward, no matter how she phrased it. "Did you think I was flirting with you?"

Pavel's blush deepened.

"I...I assumed...zat since you took off your engagement ring...you...um…"

The doctor winced; looked down at the empty spot on her left hand. Because of her work, she'd decided to put her engagement ring on a chain around her neck for safekeeping...but she could see how he might take it as a sign that she'd moved on…

"Pavel...you are a sweetheart, and maybe...under different..um...look...Pavel, my fiance died a month ago. A month. I am not...I can't even begin to––"

"I understand, Christine." Pavel looked like he wanted to bury himself in the sand. "I am so sorry that I...I hope we can still be friends."

Christine started to reply, but a low voice cut her off.

"Are you serious?"

The friends froze; slowly rose; faced the voice.

"O gospodi!" Pavel gasped.

Khan leaned against a boulder a few feet away. He wore a long black coat that should have been sweltering...but Christine knew enough about his ability to control his body temperature to know it was just there to make himself look more intimidating.

Which he really didn't need.

He already had a phaser.

"Have you never courted someone before?" Khan shook his head; gestured at Pavel with the weapon. "If you want to woo a woman, then you must be aggressive. Make her understand that you can protect her...although, in your situation, I can understand why you might choose an alternative approach."

Christine heard Pavel suck in an offended breath; she gave him a look that screamed _'DON'T BE AN IDIOT!'_

The phaser was still set to 'stun,' but at this close range, even that could be deadly if it hit the wrong spot...

There had to be a way out of this…

Pavel had stripped to his boxers for his swim; his phaser was somewhere in the jumble of clothes he'd tossed aside a few yards to their right.

Khan'd shoot them both before they got within a foot of it.

Christine's hand moved down her side. Her communicator was in her right pocket. If she could just turn it on before Khan fired, then at least they could––

"Do not waste your life warning the Enterprise of my presence," Khan stared at her. "Your short–range communications are embarrassingly easy to intercept. I have been monitoring your crew's shore leave check–ins all day. There have been three opportunities to destroy your ship in the past two hours, none of which I have taken."

"Why not?" Chekov asked.

Khan shrugged. "I need it operational...and crewed by its best people. Please, do your best to accommodate me."

Christine swallowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"I never forget a face," Khan stated. "Or a voice. And I recognize your voices from our...encounter...nearly a week ago. To be on the bridge during that disaster, you must both be among the best your crew has to offer. As such, I believe it would be in my best interest not to kill you….but I will, if you are foolish enough to make me."

"What do you want from us?" Christine asked.

"Now, let's see…" Khan ignored her question. "I heard you say that...Pavel...is a navigator, and a transporter expert, correct?"

They said nothing.

Khan sighed. "Why do Starfleet officers always attempt to withhold information I already know? I do not intend to torture the locations of my crew out of you, if that is what you fear. I could...I easily could...You are the most isolated of all of your crew. No one would even hear the screams."

A shiver ran down Christine's spine; she heard Pavel's breath shudder.

"However," Khan smirked. "I have a far more...elegant...solution in mind for saving my people. One that is far less...uncomfortable...for both of you. So, confirm what I know, and this encounter won't have to be violent."

"I...I am ze navigator," Chekov nodded.

"And you...Christine, was it?"

She nodded. "Doctor Christine Chapel."

"A doctor and a navigator," Khan hummed thoughtfully. "And both so young. If you ever do manage to break out of this awkward puppy–love phase, your children will likely be geniuses."

"We're just good friends," Christine growled. "What do you want from us?"

Khan pulled a PADD from his coat pocket.

"I simply want you to deliver a message for me," the killer said. "The sooner, the better...for everyone. Take this, and beam up to the Enterprise."

"Do you really zink we would bring zat up to ze ship?" Pavel said. "You design weapons! Zere's no telling what's in zat PADD."

Khan rolled his eyes. "I assure you, the only weapons on this device are psychological. However, if you destroy this PADD, and make me re–record my message...Doctor McCoy will be the one to suffer for it."

The navigator's face turned red again; he took a step forward.

"Leave Doctor McCoy alone, you piece of––"

Khan fired.

The bolt of energy hit Pavel in the left shoulder; he crumpled.

"Pavel!" Christine shouted.

She caught her friend as he fell; guided him to the ground. He was unconscious; a third degree burn sizzled where the phaser struck...but he was alive.

"If you get him back to your ship quickly, there shouldn't be any long–term damage." Khan tossed the PADD onto the ground next to them; it embedded itself in the sand. "Deliver the message. Lives depend on it."

The killer pulled a personal transporter from his coat; paused with a finger hovering over the controls; tilted his head.

"I am curious, Doctor Chapel: I heard you say that your fiance died a month ago. Did I kill him?"

Christine's hand dug into the sand. She could throw it in Khan's face; try to take the phaser from him…

And get herself shot...and then who would help Pavel?

"...Yes," Christine glared. "You killed him."

"Where?"

"...Xedna Eight."

"I killed a lot of people there. Was he a doctor? A security guard?"

"His name was Roger Korby," Christine seethed. "He was a medical archaeologist. He was a good man who never hurt a soul in his life, and you murdered him!"

The killer's eyebrows furrowed; raised in recognition.

"Ah, yes…" Khan nodded. "Of course, I remember him. He did seem to be decent...If it makes you feel better: it was quick."

Christine bit back her reply. She wanted to tell him to shove his transporter somewhere unpleasant and beam himself into the sun; to––

Pavel groaned; his eyes cracked open. They were disoriented; afraid…

What intensity had that phaser been on?

She needed to get him back to the Enterprise, and fighting the monster that killed her fiance wasn't going to make that happen.

"Just go," Christine growled. "I have a patient to treat."

Khan smiled. "Yes, I supposed you do. And I have business of my own to conduct. It was nice meeting you...Doctor Christine Chapel. I think I will remember you."

The killer activated his transporter; beamed away.

"...Christine?"

"It's okay, Pavel," she whispered. "He's gone. Let's get you back to the ship."

Christine grabbed the PADD Khan had dropped. Whatever was on it...it couldn't be anything good...

She had to hope that Khan wasn't lying about not wanting the Enterprise destroyed: Pavel needed to get to the medbay as fast as possible, and that meant the transporters.

The doctor pulled out her communicator; flipped it open; hoped she was right...

"Chapel to Enterprise! Medical emergency!"


	36. Chapter 36

Doctor M'Benga's life had not gone as planned.

When he started at the Academy, M'Benga dreamed of becoming one of the first humans to become an expert in Vulcan medicine. They were a species that guarded some of their most basic medical information in a shroud of secrecy that he was determined to cut through. He breezed through his first year of classes; learned Vulcan well enough to tutor other students; and in his second year, he knew he was on track to graduate early.

And then Nero struck.

With Vulcan...gone...and a large percentage of the class a few years before him...obliterated...M'Benga suddenly found himself surrounded by grieving cadets and professors.

The Academy's counselors were overwhelmed; they called on volunteers from the medical program to help them keep the cadets calm.

And so M'Benga discovered that he had a knack for counseling.

He spent the next two years working as a grief counselor after his medical classes; picked up a specialization in psychological conditions associated with space travel. There were...a lot of them.

After Khan's attack on San Francisco, M'Benga once again found himself overrun with cadets in need of help dealing with their losses, and some non–cadets as well.

...He'd stumbled upon Doctor McCoy by accident.

After hours and hours of counseling sessions, M'Benga finally had half an hour to get some air, and decided to spend it in the garden next to the medical center. He'd sat on a bench; closed his eyes...and heard a man muttering to himself.

M'Benga followed the sound to a corner of the garden with a small pond; found McCoy grumbling to himself about how 'it' would never work; that he should stop fooling himself; that 'he' was gone…

Half an hour later, Doctor McCoy told M'Benga that he'd have a position on the Enterprise the moment he graduated...if that's what he wanted.

And so M'Benga graduated; found himself recruited by the best doctor in Starfleet; to the best ship in the Federation. A doctor and a counselor for hundreds of people.

"And you're sure this thing's not booby–trapped, Spock?"

"Multiple scans have picked up nothing dangerous, Captain."

M'Benga looked at his captain and first officer, who were both staring at a PADD in M'Benga's office...trying to work up the nerve to turn it on.

 _There_ were two men that needed to get over their 'pride' and come to some sessions already! He'd been trying to get them in ever since Doctor McCoy was kidnapped, but just like Doctor Chapel had done when she first came onboard; just like she had done again a few minutes after beaming up to the ship with an injured Ensign Chekov...he'd been repeatedly brushed off.

Kirk nodded; sighed. "Then I guess it's time...Doctor M'Benga?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"When Khan gave this message to Doctor Chapel on Cerberus…" Kirk's voice was the epitome of stress. "He said B...Doctor McCoy...would not be happy if they had to re–record it...Which probably means that the message is a video, and Doctor McCoy is on it. I need...I need you to assess his medical and psychological state as much as possible, understood?"

M'Benga nodded. "Absolutely, sir...and...if you need anything else––"

"I'm fine, doctor," Kirk smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

The captain nodded to Spock; Spock turned on the PADD.

"There is one video recording on it, Captain."

"Play it, Mister Spock."

Khan's face filled the PADD's screen.

 _The killer smiled sweetly into the camera._

" _I know a few people in Starfleet are concerned about a certain doctor's well–being...Allow me to show you how well he is faring."_

 _Khan moved out of frame._

M'Benga winced.

Spock stiffened.

Kirk gasped.

"Oh my god...Bones..."

 _Doctor McCoy was strapped to a biobed with what looked like surgical bandages. His arms were tied to his sides; his feet were bare; there was...a shackle...visible around his left ankle._

 _The doctor's normally clean–shaven face was covered in a beard; his face was pale; his hair and shirt were soaking wet. Another, even more drenched shirt was inexplicably lying over his upper chest and neck._

 _...And McCoy was shivering._

" _Doctor," Khan walked behind his captive's biobed; nudged McCoy's face towards the camera. "Say hello to your crew."_

 _The doctor opened his mouth; a whistling crackle came out._

 _Khan frowned. "Can you speak?"_

 _McCoy closed his eyes; faintly shook his head._

" _I should have anticipated that," Khan muttered. "Would a dose of tri–ox and and anti–inflammatory medicine help?"_

 _McCoy nodded slowly._

" _What shelf is the anti–inflammatory medicine on?"_

 _The doctor extended two fingers; retracted them; extended three._

" _Second bookcase; top shelf?"_

 _McCoy gave a thumbs up._

 _Khan crossed to a set of shelves behind the biobed; picked up two empty hyposprays; loaded them; crossed back to McCoy; showed them to him._

" _Is this the correct medicine?"_

 _Another thumbs up._

" _How much of the tri–ox?"_

 _Two fingers._

" _Two CC's?"_

 _A thumb._

" _Alright. And the other?"_

 _Three fingers._

" _I assume the medicine should be administered as closely to the injury as possible?"_

 _Another thumb._

" _Very well."_

 _Khan pulled the second shirt away from the doctor's neck._

"That son of a bitch!"

M'Benga looked at Kirk. The captain's face was red; his hands were fists.

The doctor glanced at their silent first officer; was surprised when he could actually see the microexpressions marching across Spock's 'stoic' face.

M'Benga quietly shared their fury. He'd worked a few domestic abuse cases during his time at the Academy...but he couldn't remember ever seeing that many bruises around someone's throat.

Strangulation...From a psychological standpoint, it was a show of power: a way to make it clear that the victim's life was literally in the abuser's hands…

But it was risky, and Khan had to know that. If the injuries to the inside of McCoy's throat were severe enough, and if the doctor couldn't treat them properly...they could still kill him.

 _Khan pressed the hypos into McCoy's motley neck. The doctor's color immediately improved; he sucked in a few long, deep breaths._

" _Better, doctor?"_

" _...A–hh...a...little."_

" _Good. Then say hello to your friends."_

" _T...Tri...corder...please."_

" _After we finish here. Say hello."_

 _McCoy grimaced; his eyes focused on the camera._

" _H–heh...Hello."_

 _Khan smiled. "That's better."_

 _The killer stroked his captive's hair._

" _Since you were so helpful and polite about your predicament...this will be the last round."_

 _McCoy's eyes flashed with panic._

" _Please...don't––"_

 _Khan covered the doctor's face with the soaked shirt; McCoy sobbed._

" _Shhh…" The killer pressed a finger over his captive's covered mouth. "Doctor, at least try to be strong for your friends."_

 _The fabric rapidly collapsed into the doctor's mouth when he tried to suck in a breath; puffed out as he exhaled._

 _Khan slipped out of view._

...And M'Benga realized what was about to happen.

"Captain," M'Benga said urgently. "I think you might want to––"

"We have to know," Kirk's voice was controlled again, but there was a slight tremor to it. "Khan told Christine that lives were at stake...We have to watch."

Spock interjected. "Doctor M'Benga and I could finish the recording. You do not have to––"

"I need to know." Kirk said firmly; they fell silent.

 _Khan reappeared with a large bucket; water sloshed out the top as he gripped it by the rim; a few fat drops landed on the doctor._

 _McCoy flinched; tried to turn his head away...but Khan held it in place._

"Don't," the captain pled to the deaf screen. "Don't do it…"

 _The killer stared into the camera._

" _Before we begin, I would like to wish a late 'Happy Birthday' to Joanna McCoy. I hope you know that your father would die for you...in fact, he very nearly did...And to my doctor's friends on the Enterprise: I hope you enjoyed your shore leave...because I know someone who certainly did not."_

 _Khan slowly poured the contents of the bucket over McCoy's head._

 _The doctor's back arched; his fists clenched; he yanked against his restraints._

 _But he was held down too tightly, and the water just kept coming._

 _A few moments more, and McCoy went limp._

 _Khan set the bucket down; peeled the drenched cloth away from the doctor's face; tossed it to the ground._

 _McCoy gasped for air...and then wept._

...How many times had Khan done that to him before turning the camera on?

"You monster," Kirk whispered. "You didn't have to follow through on that threat. You––"

" _Did you know that in my time, a few of Earth's societies did not consider waterboarding to be torture?" Khan mused. "It was purely political: they were nations that were supposed to be shining beacons of freedom and honor...so they called it an 'enhanced interrogation method;' claimed it was harmless...I must respectfully disagree."_

 _Khan crouched until he was inches from the doctor's face._

" _What do you think, doctor? Is it torture?"_

 _McCoy took a deep breath; tried to compose himself; finally nodded._

" _Use your words, doctor."_

" _...'C...'Course...it is."_

 _The killer tousled his captive's hair._

" _Good boy."_

A growl made M'Benga glance away from the screen in surprise.

...Did that come from Spock?

 _Khan ripped apart the bandages holding McCoy down; gestured for him to sit up. As the doctor dropped his legs over the edge of the biobed, Khan retrieved a blanket from offscreen._

" _Remove your shirts," Khan ordered._

 _Doctor McCoy complied; gingerly peeled off the layers of drenched cloth; tossed them away._

M'Benga grimaced.

 _There were half–healed handprints on McCoy's upper arms; a speckling of bruises across his chest and abdomen; the restraints on his wrists had left fresh red and violet welts…_

 _Khan handed the doctor the blanket; McCoy enveloped himself in it; shivered._

 _Khan tilted his head._

" _Better?"_

" _...Yeah." The doctor rasped. "...Thanks."_

 _Khan smiled._

" _You are welcome, doctor."_

 _The killer sat next to McCoy; wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The doctor tried to lean away, but Khan yanked him closer._

" _After all, I do not need you to become more ill than you already are."_

"...What the hell does that mean?" Kirk asked.

" _Go on, doctor," Khan shook McCoy gently. "Tell them about the condition you claim to have developed in my company."_

" _I…I didn't lie about––"_

" _So you say," Khan interrupted. "And yet we both know how much you like to deceive me."_

" _Ya can't...fake...a swollen spleen."_

...There were a number of conditions that could cause a spleen to swell; many of which could be caused by severe trauma. What condition had Khan––

 _Khan chuckled. "That is true...So tell them."_

 _McCoy looked down._

" _Xen...xenopoly...cythemia. I'm...I have...xenopolycythemia."_

M'Benga sucked in a breath.

Kirk looked at him worriedly.

"What's xenopoly––"

" _Xenopolycythemia," Khan hummed. "What a cumbersome way of saying you have less than a year to live."_

The captain's head snapped back to the video.

"What?!"

" _And, what was it, doctor?" Khan asked. "Two? Three months before surgery is no longer an option? Before your life cannot be saved?"_

" _...Two...maybe two...and a half...months...now."_

" _Let's call it two months...to be safe," Khan looked into the camera. "Two months until our good doctor loses the chance to see his daughter become a rebellious teenager...For his sake, why don't we speed up our little game?"_

"This is not a game," Kirk seethed. "This is––"

" _Wouldn't it be nice to see your daughter turn thirteen, Bones?" Khan chuckled as his captive's eyes widened. "Ah, yes...your friend, Kirk, let that nickname slip during our last encounter...I never told you what happened, did I?"_

" _...No..."_

 _Khan smirked._

" _Your captain engineered a trap for me. One that very nearly succeeded. He also dangled Nitika in front of me as a 'reminder' of why I should surrender."_

 _The captive's eyebrows furrowed._

" _...No," McCoy rasped. "Jim'd never––"_

" _Oh, but_ Jim _did," Khan crooned. "Under orders from your wonderfully benign Starfleet...he did."_

" _...Yer...lyin'."_

 _Khan grabbed a fistful of the doctor's hair; turned McCoy's head to face him._

" _Tell me: who has lied more in the past month: you or me?"_

 _McCoy grimaced; said nothing._

" _Do you really think there's anything your people wouldn't do to be free of people like me?" Khan continued. "What is the life of one innocent person, when the safety of an entire society is at stake?"_

" _It's...Everything," McCoy whispered._

 _Khan blinked; grinned._

"... _Oh...you are adorable." The killer tousled the doctor's hair; patted his cheek. "I just hope a few of your people feel the same way."_

 _Khan turned back to the camera._

" _If you want your doctor back in time to save him from his disease, then you will deliver my people to Xedna Eight. All at once, or in small groups: it does not matter to me...however for the expedient return of our good doctor, I would suggest larger shipments. My crew will arrive, still in stasis, via a shuttle crewed by no more than one Starfleet officer, and they will be beamed down to the facility's control room. The shuttle will then return to its ship immediately, or it will be destroyed. Once I have them all, I will release the doctor, and my people will venture into a region outside of Federation control. You will never hear from us again."_

M'Benga closed his eyes; sighed. Doctor McCoy was a good man, and deserved far, far better than this...but Khan had to know that Starfleet Command would never––

" _And, as I am well aware that the doctor's life is not important enough to your leaders to secure the release of my people…I offer up another incentive." Khan's smirk disappeared. "Throughout the past month, I have placed bombs in public places across Earth...as well as a few of its less defended colonies. Soon after you receive this message, one of them will detonate."_

...No one breathed.

" _You bastard!" McCoy's voice cracked. "You told me you wouldn't set it off if I––"_

 _Khan's hand slipped to the doctor's throat._

 _McCoy stiffened; his eyes pinched with fear._

" _Relax, doctor," Khan's hand slid to rest on his captive's shoulder. "It is a different bomb...with a far more justified target...there is a debt that needs to be repaid."_

 _The doctor stared at the floor; said nothing._

 _Khan smirked again; gestured to McCoy._

" _Is keeping me separated from my crew a goal worthy of this man's life? Or the lives of countless others in your Federation? Send me my crew, and we will all come away with what we need. Refuse, and...well...the doctor will not be happy with any of us."_

 _Khan stood; approached the camera._

" _You have one week from the day the Enterprise arrived at Cerberus to bring me at least one of my crewmates, or I will begin to bring your society to its knees."_

 _Khan reached out; the screen cut to black._

"...He is alive, Captain," Spock finally broke the silence. "Whatever Khan has done to him...Leonard is alive."

M'Benga had never heard Spock use McCoy's first name. He also had never heard the Vulcan's voice that slow; that level...that full of...wrath.

"I'll kill him," Kirk whispered. "I'll...how could he do that?"

"Captain," Spock said. "We must alert Starfleet Command to Khan's threat. If a bomb is about to go off––"

"I know, Spock," the captain said. "Uhura made contact with them moments after Chapel and Chekov beamed up. They're awaiting our assessment of the...situation...M'Benga?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'll...need you to explain to them...what we saw," Kirk's voice was unsteady. "I'll tell them about the bombs...but I...I don't think I can stay composed if I have to...um––"

"I understand completely, Captain." M'Benga nodded reassuringly. "I will make sure they understand what Khan is capable of...and what he has done to your friend."

Kirk nodded. "Thanks...Spock, do you know if there's been any luck tracing Khan's transporter signal?"

"...There is not a trace of him, Captain."

"...Alright," Kirk straightened his shoulders; stood. "Let's go talk to some admirals. I...don't think there's anything we can do about...the first bomb...but we only have about five days till that...until Khan...sets off another one."

Kirk crossed to the door; paused.

"Let's go save some people."

As the captain left the office, M'Benga hoped, for the sake of the mental health of Captain Kirk; of Spock; of...everyone in the crew...that Doctor McCoy would be one of them.


	37. Chapter 37

He couldn't eat.

Leonard glared at the unwrapped nutrition bar in his hand. He'd managed to get down a bite of it, but it was so damn dry…and it hurt too much to swallow.

Khan'd given him a couple of the bars that morning; then went off to deliver the...message...they'd recorded; said he'd be back that night. The killer'd left him with a stack of rusty panels to scrub...and he'd finished those an hour ago.

The only other things he could do were to sleep, write, or eat...something.

Sleep hadn't worked out too well. Too many damn images from the night before played on a loop in his dreams.

The hand on his throat...being tied down...

...The water...god...the water.

He...wasn't ready to write about it either.

Leonard laid back on his biobed; tossed the nutrition bar back and forth between his hands. He'd taken the time to fix his wrists: those damn bandages had broken the skin, and he wasn't about to risk an infection...

...At least his bed was dry. Khan had tied him to the bed Nitika died on for the video. He was probably just trying to tighten up the shot; make it so the only thing the camera could see was stolen Starfleet property, instead of rusting walls, or ancient flooring, or anything else that might help somebody figure out where they were...

His stomach growled.

"Maybe I can soak the bar in some water for a bit," Leonard muttered. "Soften it up a little…"

An unwelcome mental image made the doctor involuntarily swallow; wince.

God...What if he'd torn something?

Leonard shuddered; took a deep breath.

He was being paranoid: he'd checked himself out at least a dozen times.

...But there'd been a lot of bruising...way more than was necessary to indicate a life–threatening injury. Hell, throat injuries didn't even _need_ to have bruises to be life–threatening...what if...

The doctor sat up; swapped the nutrition bar for the medical tricorder he'd left at the foot of his biobed.

Maybe he'd missed a tear in the esophagus, or a fractured larynx, or a crushed artery…

He passed the scanner over his head, neck and chest; sighed in relief at the results.

"I'm okay," Leonard whispered. "Inflammation's down a little more...no sign of blood clots...no sign of...I'm just...healing...nothin's gonna...I'm okay."

Well, not 'okay' okay. Bruising like a peach could also be a side–effect of xenopolycythemia…

"I'm no worse off than before..."

...Before Khan'd almost crushed his trachea.

That third time...he'd felt it...it'd hurt so much, for a moment Leonard thought...

The doctor set the tricorder down; absently rubbed a sore spot near the back of his neck.

That the killer _hadn't_ crushed or broken anything in Leonard's throat was a freakin' miracle. A little more pressure; a slightly different angle…

Leonard's eyes started to burn; closed them as he felt the moisture build up.

He'd almost died...again...And that...water...for a minute, he thought he was...

The doctor ran a hand through his hair; clenched it into a fist.

...Maybe...this time...he'd deserved it.

He'd been so stupid! Who in their right mind would record a message to someone they love when they knew their captor could find it and use it against them? What kind of idiot would smile at something that was obviously supposed to make them upset?

...What kind of father would reveal his daughter's location to a psychopath?

He'd given her up. He'd told Khan about Joanna; put his only child's life in danger...and for what?

Khan lied. He made such a big goddamn deal of anybody else lying, but if _Khan_ promised not to detonate a bomb in exchange for a confession...

The doctor shook his head.

...That wasn't what Khan said, was it? He'd been specific. He'd said that a bomb under a playground in Atlanta would go off at lunchtime if Leonard didn't admit Joanna was his daughter. Khan never said he wasn't ever going to detonate a different bomb...or even that one…at a different time…or for a different reason.

...Goddamn semantics.

Of course, this would've been the terrorist's plan all along. He was a terrorist. Blowing crap up was what terrorists did...

How could he have let himself think Khan put bombs everywhere just to keep him in line? Was his ego _that_ out of control?

...How many people were dead?

The doctor touched the ring on his left pinky finger; thought back to that moment three weeks before, when Khan was lying, unconscious and bleeding out, on Nitika's biobed.

If he had just...

"...No." Leonard whispered. "I didn't do this…I'm not ta blame for what that bastard does...I'm not..."

The hiss of the medbay door made Leonard's empty stomach clench.

"Good evening, doctor."

Leonard took a deep breath in; let it out; looked up. Khan had a thermos in one hand, and a nutrition bar and jerky pack in the other.

More food he couldn't eat. He'd have to tell him...

"...Hello..."

"You appear to be far less...colorful...than when I left," Khan noted. "Are you feeling better?"

The doctor's hand went to his neck; he suppressed a shudder.

Like that asshole actually cared how he was feeling...

"Still sore," Leonard said. "Just healed as much as I could...I'm...um...I can talk a lot better."

The terrorist smirked. "I can hear that...and I see you finished the work I gave you this morning. Well done."

"...Thanks."

"Tomorrow, I will bring you..." Khan trailed off; frowned; gestured to the nutrition bar at the foot of the doctor's bed. "Have you not eaten today?"

Leonard glanced at his partially–eaten...he didn't know what meal to call it.

"It...hurts too much ta swallow."

"Did you take anything for the pain?"

"...I'm too afraid of tearin' somethin,'" Leonard confessed. "Coverin' up the pain so I can shove dry, scratchy foods down my throat could…end badly."

"Ah. That is...unfortunate."

"Yeah..."

The killer stared at him like he was an oddly–shaped puzzle piece; nodded to himself.

"I believe there are crates of instant potato mix somewhere in storage. Would you be able to eat that?"

Leonard relaxed a little. He didn't relish the idea of eating nothing but potato mush for the next few days...but he wasn't gonna starve.

"That should work...thank you."

"You are quite welcome, doctor. I would not want you to go hungry."

"...Okay."

The killer moved a little closer to the biobed; paused as the doctor tensed.

"Doctor, I know that yesterday's...punishment...was severe," Khan said. "However, it is a situation that never need be repeated; I am willing to salvage the rapport we were creating before your transgressions...if you are willing to behave."

...What.

"My...transgressions?" Leonard asked.

"Your lies," Khan gave him a condescending look. "You forced my hand yesterday; forced me to respond in a...regrettable...manner. But I am willing to look past that."

...Was...was he trying to say Leonard...forced Khan to torture him?

The doctor's fingers curled into fists.

Like hell!

That bastard had grinned from ear to ear whenever Leonard begged him to stop. He'd _enjoyed_ it! He didn't get to stand there and…

...What if he yelled at Khan, and the psychopath decided to do it again?

...His lungs had felt like they were on fire...the water was so cold…

He shuddered; his hands unclenched.

"No one's forcin' ya ta do any of this," he mumbled. "Unlike some people around here...everythin' ya do is a choice y––"

"Is it?" Khan interrupted. "Tell me: if your perpetually innocent friend, Jim, were being held by someone who wanted to use him as a lab rat...or if your daughter were similarly detained...would you consider it a choice to do whatever you needed to do to rescue them? Be honest."

"I––" he stopped.

...What kind of question was that?

"No," Leonard shook his head. "I'd never kidnap someone, or torture 'em, or threaten to murder a bunch of kids ta make 'em do what I want. Ever."

Khan shrugged. "Perhaps not...but you would take someone's blood without their permission; use it in a way they would object to. You cannot deny that."

The doctor opened his mouth to object; caught himself.

...That was...true. He'd done that...two years ago. To Khan...so he could save Jim.

The killer chuckled. "You see? When your family is at stake, those rigid lines between morality and depravity; integrity and corruption...they crumble to dust. I am simply willing to take that concept to its logical conclusion. Your people will give in eventually. It may take a few more detonations...but I will have my family back."

Leonard lowered his head; tried to think of something noble to say in response to Khan's soliloquy...but his mind kept going back to the bombs.

"...Where was it?" The doctor asked quietly.

Khan tilted his head. "Where was what, doctor?"

"You know what I mean," Leonard sighed. "Where was the bomb you set off today? How many people did you kill?"

The doctor barely suppressed the urge to bolt as the killer moved to the foot of the biobed; set the food and thermos at Leonard's feet; crouched to his eye level.

"Are you certain you wish to know?"

Leonard slowly nodded. "I...I have to."

Khan grinned; the doctor tried to mentally prepare himself for a number in the hundreds...maybe even a whole colony...

"One."

The doctor blinked. "One?"

"An admiral," Khan nodded. "Admiral Nicholas Alston. I came across a communique about his...relocation. He was not difficult to find. The bomb may have injured a few guards...but as far as I could tell, Alston was the only fatality."

A wave of relief washed over him; immediately followed by horror at that relief.

One death and multiple injuries…even that was too much.

...And it didn't make sense.

"...Why?"

"Why Admiral Alston?" Khan's mouth twitched. "Is that what you mean? I told you before: there was a debt that needed to be repaid."

"...Okay…" The doctor nodded. "But...what debt? What did he do ta piss you off?"

Something unidentifiable flashed through the killer's eyes.

"Very well," Khan huffed. "If you must know...he gave your friend, Jim, the order to kill Nitika."

Leonard's stomach dropped.

...No.

Jim hadn't really…

No!

Of course not.

Khan was screwing with him. Again.

"Bullshit."

Khan chuckled. "Not your most eloquent retort, doctor...Although I do understand your resistance."

"'S'not resistance," Leonard couldn't help but glare. "Just anger. Ya don't want me ta lie to you, but you keep lyin' about Jim. He'd never kill––"

"I am not lying," Khan snapped. "Everything I have told you about Nitika's death is true. During my rescue operation, Kirk established an open comm channel to convince me to surrender. He left Nitika in that facility to 'remind' me why I should give myself up...And, when they thought I could not hear them, Admiral Alston ordered your friend to shut down Nitika's cryotube. To write it up as a glitch in the reports."

...No.

"Jim wouldn't––"

"I tried to revive her, but the power went out in Nitika's cryotube halfway through the process." Khan's eyes bored into him. "I had to set a charge to break through the transparent aluminum, or she would have been entombed inside it. You know what that led to. Believe me, or do not: it will not change the fact that Admiral Alston gave Kirk the order that led to Nitika's death."

…no…

Leonard closed his eyes; rested his forehead on his knees.

"He…"

Even, if in a fit of insanity, Jim had tried to follow that order...Spock would never let him do it...But god, Khan sounded so convincing!

...And Jim'd surprised him before. A couple years back, when Jim'd almost risked war with the Klingons to get revenge on Khan...he'd never thought Jim could do that either...what if––

A hand rested on his shoulder. He tensed, but it just gave a little squeeze; patted gently.

"It is alright, doctor."

The doctor's shoulders slumped.

He was so tired of fighting...

"You could not have known Kirk was capable of this."

...God, Khan was telling the truth, wasn't he?

How...how could Jim––

"He does not deserve your friendship. None of them do."

...Wait.

Leonard's breath caught; he opened his eyes.

...What the hell was happening?

The doctor glanced at the hand on his shoulder; looked up.

Khan's eyes gleamed with...triumph.

...Oh, goddammit! NO!

Leonard scrambled back so fast he kicked the thermos, food, and tricorder to the floor; almost fell off the far end of the biobed. He hugged his knees to his chest; tried to tamp down a wave of nausea.

Dear god, for a second he'd believed...dear god...

Khan blinked, his hand still suspended in the air where the doctor had been a moment before. He lowered his arm; the gleam left his eyes.

"Really, doctor?" The killer shook his head. "I offer you comfort, and you recoil? Does that truly seem like a good decision?"

"Just stop," Leonard's voice cracked. "Stop screwing with my head! Please...ya'v already got me over a barrel: you don't need ta––"

"I am simply helping you see the truth," Khan insisted. "The Federation lies, manipulates, and kills to bend the universe to its designs. They are not a moral society, no matter how much they pretend to––"

"Well, that's pretty goddamn rich, coming from you!" Leonard barked; froze. His throat stung a little from…

Oh, god...

The killer's eyebrows crammed into his forehead; his mouth became a thin line.

"Would you like to rephrase that?"

"I–I'm sorry," the doctor said quickly. "I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

Khan stared at him a moment longer...and then hoisted himself onto the end of the biobed.

Leonard instinctively moved back; almost fell off the end again. His heart pounded; his mind did triple–time.

Khan was gonna choke him again...he was gonna...the water was gonna come back...

If he tried to get up; to run, the killer would just grab the chain and…

He had nowhere to go. He never had anywhere to go…

"I'm sorry! I'm––"

"Stop."

Khan sat cross–legged at the foot of the biobed. He didn't try to come any closer…

They stared at each other. Leonard didn't dare break the silence.

"I am not going to hurt you," Khan finally said. "I understand what it means to discover the universe is not what you were led to believe. You are only in the first stages of this awakening; you still cannot comprehend the horrors your people are capable of."

Leonard kept his mouth shut.

"I think it may be time for me to enlighten you," Khan nodded to himself. "Yes...it is well past time...Tell me, doctor: why do you think my crewmates did not recognize me three weeks ago? Why do you think they tried to kill me?"

"I…" He'd never understood what the hell had happened there... "I don't know...did something happen to their memories?"

Khan snorted. "No...but that was a decent guess. Nothing was wrong with their memories. They saw me; heard me call myself Khan Noonien Singh...and they understandably called me a liar and an impostor...Tell me why."

The doctor ran a hand through his hair; tried to think of how that could work.

...What if…

"Are...are you...not actually Khan?" Leonard asked.

The killer huffed in annoyance. "No, doctor, I am Khan Noonien Singh. The same one that went into exile all those years ago. I am not an impostor, or an ancestor with the same name. I know you are intelligent: take in the context of our conversation...and try one more time."

...Why did that 'one more time' feel like a threat?

...Probably because everything was a threat here...

Leonard closed his eyes; focused.

Nothing wrong with the memories of his crewmates...so...if he was really Khan, they should've recognized him straight off the bat...unless…

Leonard's eyes flew open.

...The context of the conversation...

' _The horrors your people are capable of.'_

Oh.

His eyes widened.

Oh, god…

"This isn't how you used to look, is it?" Leonard breathed. "Admiral Marcus...he had your face––"

"Not just my face, doctor," Khan growled. "He forced an entirely new identity upon me. To create John Harrison required far more than a few data files. They shaved my bones; stripped the melanin from my skin and eyes; altered my voicebox...and stole my memories."

...This couldn't be true. Who in their right mind would do something so––

"They failed to take my memories permanently…" The killer grimaced. "However, I have been unable to discard Harrison's damn British accent...that reprogramming ran too deep, and I doubt it will ever go away completely."

What doctors would do this? Who would abandon their oaths to––

"Now do you understand, doctor?" Khan leaned forward. "In my genetic code...and in my mind...I am still Khan Noonien Singh, born in Northern India; former ruler of nearly half the Earth...but that is not who I see when I dare to glance into a mirror. That is not who my people see when I come to their aide. My identity was stolen by Marcus and his doctors...and their theft has cost me four members of my crew."

...Was it true? Could Marcus have really––

" _That_ is the Federation, doctor," Khan's...intensely blue eyes...burned with rage. " _That_ is what you have sworn allegiance to."

...Dear god...it was true.

Leonard realized his mouth was open; closed it with a click of teeth. He looked away; tried to think of something to say; something to…

...What? Comfort the guy? After everything Khan'd put him through, did he expect him to––

"Doctor, you are being terribly quiet...Do you not believe me?"

The doctor looked up into his captor's...artificially blue...eyes. He needed to say something...

"...I believe ya," Leonard whispered. "God help me...but I do."

Khan's mouth twitched into a smile. "I knew you would be able to understand the truth, given the proper prompting."

...Leonard didn't think thinking about that comment for too long was a good idea.

"Have you…thought about tryin' ta reverse some of it?" The doctor asked. "It's possible...with modern tech…ta build onto existing bones; to replace the melanin they––"

Khan laughed dryly. "I doubt you would approve of the measures required to procure that equipment, doctor...and even then...there are very few images of my old face left in existence with which you could reference your work. You are the only Federation doctor I would trust to attempt the procedure...but it is not worth the risks."

Leonard blinked. "Did...did you just say you trusted me?"

The terrorist shrugged. "I trust you to not risk thousands of lives by intentionally killing me during the procedure...and I trust that you would never purposefully leave me disfigured, like past Federation doctors have. Beyond that...I am still learning who you truly are...As, I believe, are you."

Leonard shifted on the biobed; tried to think of a way to respond to that. This was all getting really weird; really frustrating; really––

His stomach growled loudly.

Khan chuckled. "I should find those potatoes, before you faint from hunger. Would you like me to see if there are any other soft foods in storage?"

...Well, there was no way in hell he was saying no to that.

"That'd be great...Thanks."

The killer rose.

"I will be back shortly. The thermos I brought you this evening is full of tea. It should still be warm; soothing for your throat."

"...Thank you."

Khan nodded; left without another word.

Leonard straightened his legs; stretched. There was still a slight twinge in his right leg from his fall a couple weeks before, and the position he'd been sitting in had aggravated it.

The doctor left the biobed; picked the thermos, food, and tricorder off the floor. He put the food in a storage crate; set the thermos on his biobed; went to put the tricorder away.

When Leonard reached the shelves, he paused; popped out the tricorder's scanner; passed it over himself with an oddly...shaky...hand; read the results.

...He was okay.

...He was okay...

Leonard set the tricorder on a bookshelf; leaned against it; sucked in a shuddering breath.

He was…

...So damn confused.


	38. Chapter 38

_A hurricane._

 _Spock was on an island at the center of the storm. The winds gusted around him, but could not touch him. He was holding the eye of the hurricane in place; not even a single drop of rain fell near him. He was in control. Given time, he would force the storm to subside._

 _He would start with the waves. They rolled around the island; crests high enough to overwhelm any vessel that attempted to escape while the storm..._

 _...Leonard couldn't escape either. As the water had poured over the doctor's covered face, his entire body had strained to escape; to find air...But Khan wouldn't let––_

Spock opened his eyes.

He was sitting on his meditation mat in his quarters; lights set to thirty percent.

...Clearly, the hurricane visualization was not appropriate for his current mental state…

Spock had not slept well: the video they received the day before had infiltrated his dreams. If he were a full Vulcan, he would have more control over his subconscious; he could have prevented...

...However, he was only half Vulcan. The images of Leonard being tortured and demeaned had stayed with him throughout the night, and had dragged him from his sleep in a way that had not happened since the first months after his home was destroyed.

The first officer adjusted his posture; closed his eyes.

If he were to perform his duties effectively...and prevent any emotions from clouding his judgement...he needed to complete a full meditative session.

 _...A sandstorm._

He deepened his breath.

Yes...that was a more suitable image.

 _Granules of rock and ancient corals cascaded through the air. Roaring winds combined with the debris to make a force capable of sculpting stone; a thundering cloud of violence that threatened to destroy anything living caught in its path._

 _Spock faced the approaching storm. It would not overwhelm him. He would strip away its energy; watch as the sand drifted harmlessly back to the surface of the desert._

 _He was in control. He was––_

Someone knocked on his door.

Spock opened his eyes; allowed himself a slight frown. Nyota and Jim both knew that he meditated before breakfast. Neither of them made a habit of disturbing––

"Mister Spock?" A small, high voice came through the door.

Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"One moment, please."

The Vulcan rose; appraised his appearance. He typically meditated before changing into his uniform, and as such, he was still wearing his sleepshirt and boxers.

Spock hurried to his closet; slipped on a blue uniform top and pants. If this unexpected visit took too long, he would not be able to complete his normal morning routine...however, it would be rude to ignore one of their guests.

Spock opened the door; looked down.

"May I help you, Miss McCoy?"

A pair of familiar hazel eyes looked up at him from a child's face.

"I'm sorry," Joanna McCoy had her father's lopsided smirk. "Did I wake you up?"

Spock looked at his uniform for a mistake that would prompt that question; quickly realized that he had not yet combed his hair. After his tumultuous night of sleep, it was undoubtedly in disarray.

"You did not," Spock said. "I was simply preparing for my shift. Is everything alright? Where are your aunt and uncle?"

Joanna shrugged. "They're gettin' some...well...I guess it's breakfast here, isn't it? Back on Cerberus, it'd be close to lunchtime...It's gonna take awhile to get used ta that."

Spock nodded. "Your circadian rhythm is not set to UFP Standard Time."

"Yeah, that's what Aunt Donna said..."

Spock waited for her to continue, perplexed by her visit. Leonard's family was staying in guest quarters a short distance down the hall...perhaps she was embarrassed to admit...

"Can you not remember which door leads to your quarters?"

Joanna shifted. "No, I'm...look, I know you're just gettin' started with your day...but I've got a feeling that by the time you or Captain Kirk get out of your shift, I'll've been asleep for a few hours...so, would you mind if I asked you some questions before ya go to work?"

...Jim was far better with children than he was; especially Human children. He did not understand...

"May I ask why you have brought your questions to me instead of Captain Kirk?"

Joanna shrugged. "Because Vulcans don't lie, right? Or, at least from what...Dad's...written about you, you don't really lie. About anything...even if it might hurt someone's feelings. So...I figured that you were the person ta go to if I wanted answers."

Spock considered her statement.

That was sound reasoning for a twelve year old Human child.

He found it...interesting...that Leonard had mentioned him in letters to his family...even if the information was not completely accurate.

"Vulcans can and do lie," Spock corrected her. "However, we seldom find a logical reason to do so...and I doubt this will be one of those occasions. What questions do you have for me?"

The girl's face lit up. "So I can really ask you anything I want, and you'll tell me?"

He was not going to have time to finish meditating…

"As long as the information is not guarded by a security clearance, then yes."

"Great, thanks!"

Joanna marched past Spock; plopped herself down in a chair by his desk.

...He had not meant she should make herself at home in his quarters.

"I was about to have breakfast," Spock left his door open; crossed to a cupboard. "I am preparing kreyla bread and Vulcan spiced tea. Would you care for some?"

"Sure, I'll try a little," Joanna nodded. "Please and thank you."

Spock began to heat their tea; set out plates, cups, and napkins. He suspected she had skipped 'lunch' to speak with him.

"What's that?"

Spock turned. Joanna was pointing at the Vulcan lute on a shelf next to his desk.

"It is a Vulcan lute," Spock said. "My father gave it to me on my third birthday."

"Do you know how ta play it?"

"I am proficient, yes."

"What's it sound like?"

The Vulcan exhaled. It would take a minute for the water to reach an optimum temperature; and to his...dismay, Joanna did not seem to be in a hurry to ask her real questions.

Spock picked up the lyre; sat across from Joanna at the desk; plucked out an old Vulcan melody he often played for Nyota. She was a talented singer in multiple languages, and appeared to enjoy it when he accompanied her. He...also enjoyed it.

"Oh, that thing sounds so cool!" Joanna grinned. "Man, I wish I could play an instrument…I mean, I sing, and I know a little guitar, but I kinda quit learning it when I was six."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Music is an excellent tool to sharpen one's mind. Numerous studies show learning an instrument can refine fine motor skills, as well as enhance one's mastery of mathematics, linguistics, and other fields. Why would you quit at such a young age?"

"...Well…um..." Joanna's smile faded. "Dad was teaching me...but then he got really...sad...and he Mom started fighting...and I moved in with…I just didn't feel like playing anymore."

Spock's eyebrow lowered. He was unsure if he should continue this line of conversation.

"...I did not know your father could play an instrument."

"...He's really good," Joanna nodded. "Before he...he used ta play for me all the time, and he'd sing these really old folksongs, and a lot of classical stuff...Maybe when you guys find him, he'll show ya."

...The crackling sound that came from the doctor's throat in Khan's video echoed through Spock's mind.

What damage might Khan's assaults have caused to Leonard's vocal cords? Would he ever be able to sing again?

Spock rose quickly; set the lute back on the shelf.

"...Perhaps."

He checked on their tea. It was at a reasonable temperature, so he poured the beverage into their cups; served pieces of kreyla.

Joanna picked up her teacup; took a hesitant sip; smiled.

"This stuff kinda tastes like hot cocoa...but with a really spicy kick...I like it."

"Miss McCoy," Spock sat across from her again. "I do not wish to be rude, however you said you had questions for me, and I will inevitably need to report for duty. Would you be willing to ask your questions while we eat?"

"Right," Joanna nodded; sighed. "Sorry...I just...um...Look, can you please just tell me what the heck is really going on?"

Spock took a sip of tea. "I am unsure what you mean."

Joanna set her tea down. "People keep actin' like since I'm a kid, it means I'm stupid. Captain Kirk told me two days ago that Dad was missing. He also said that everything was gonna be okay; that you'd get him back any day now...but that's not true, is it? If that was true, you guys wouldn't be carting us off to some random starbase, where we'll apparently be takin' yet another ship to who the heck knows where...The people who have Dad, they're really dangerous, aren't they?"

...Why had he agreed to this?

Spock took a bite of kreyla; considered the most appropriate way to respond. Vulcans did not believe it logical to withhold harsh truths from children...however, he did not wish to frighten Leonard's daughter.

...And yet, Joanna already appeared to understand that she and her guardians were being moved for their own protection. Surely having more details about why Jim had requested their relocation would serve to keep her human imagination from running wild; prevent her from, as the Earth expression went, 'jumping at shadows.'

"The captain was attempting to reassure you," Spock said. "It is true that your father's...situation...is dire. However, the man holding him appears to have taken your father, at least in part, for his medical expertise. It would be––"

"Wait, it's just one guy?" Joanna looked shocked. "Dad doesn't like fighting, but he could take down one guy if he had to! How do you know he hasn't escaped on his own already? What if he's trying to contact you guys, but you're wastin' time lugging me and my aunt and uncle off ta some random rock?"

...Spock's mind flickered to the image of Leonard leaning away as Khan sat next to him; attempting to put some distance between himself and his captor; being yanked back with so little effort...the handprints on his arms...the bruises on his neck...

"The number of captors is not the determining factor in this case," Spock said evenly. "The man holding your father is...exceptionally strong; he is also highly skilled in both armed and hand–to–hand combat. It would be...unwise...for your father to attempt to overpower him."

"Well just who is this guy?" Joanna demanded. "I mean, is he even Human? Or is he Klingon? Or Romulan? What?"

"...He is Human," Spock replied. "Miss McCoy...I cannot tell you who he is. The captain was barely able to acquire permission to inform your guardians of his––"

"But how can I know if he's found us if I don't know who I should be lookin' out for?" Joanna blurted. "I mean, that's why we had ta leave Cerberus, right? Y'all thought he might come after us ta get ta Dad, didn't ya?"

Spock opened his mouth to answer, but Joanna kept going.

"Does he know what I look like?" There was fear in her eyes. "Should I dye my hair? Would that make it harder for him ta find us? And what do I do if he does anyway? Do we run some more? Do we hide for however long it takes for this ta end? When do I get ta go home?"

...All of Joanna's questions were quite logical for someone in her position; however he was unsure if he should answer the deluge of questions in the order Joanna had presented them, or in their order of importance.

"The probability of him finding you has been drastically reduced by your family's willingness to leave Cerberus," Spock said. "It is still possible...however, as your aunt and uncle told your neighbors that you were taking a trip to Earth, it is unlikely. It is also unlikely that he knows what you look like. As to the duration of your relocation...I cannot say. The man holding your father will not relent until he is either killed, captured, or has acquired what he desires from the Federation."

"Then why don't you just give him what he wants?" Joanna asked. "Just give it to him, and get Dad back!"

"We have not been authorized to do so." Although Jim was working tirelessly on that. He doubted the captain had slept; Spock only had because Jim had ordered him to. "There is a high risk that what he wants could endanger many more lives, and Starfleet Command is taking its time to consider their options."

"So they're risking Dad's life based on a guess?"

"A 'guess' based on past experiences with his captor," Spock said. "I am sorry, Miss McCoy. We are doing everything we can."

"Well it's not darn well near enough, is it?" Joanna snapped.

Spock blinked.

As illogical as it seemed, for a moment, he could have sworn it was Leonard yelling at him. The inflections, although far higher in pitch, were exactly the same.

Joanna's angry expression turned to sadness; she looked into her teacup. "I'm sorry, Mister Spock...That was really rude. It's just...I thought I was finally gonna see him again a few days ago...and then this happened, and now I don't know if...I just want him back."

Spock nodded. "There is no need to apologize. I understand how difficult this must be for you...I have...the loss of a parent, or even the potential for that loss, is not a simple experience to process."

Joanna sipped her tea. "Sorry ta badger you before your shift. I really do appreciate you takin' the time ta––"

"Joanna?" A man's worried voice called from the corridor. "Joanna, where are you?"

Joanna sighed. "In here, Uncle Fred!"

A frazzled Fred Withers popped his head into Spock's quarters.

"Joanna, what are you doing in here?" Fred looked at Spock apologetically. "I am so sorry, Commander! She told us she had a headache, and was going to lie down."

"It is quite alright, Mister Withers," Spock calmly took a sip of tea. "Your niece has a critical mind; our conversation has been...educative."

Joanna gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you again, Mister Spock. I'll stop bugging ya now. Have a great shift!"

"You are welcome."

The girl gulped down the rest of her tea; grabbed her piece of kreyla; scurried past her uncle and out the door.

Fred shook his head.

"I swear, that girl's going to give Donna and I heart attacks one of these days...Are you sure I don't need to talk to her about this?"

"The rationale for her visit was quite logical." Even if she had disturbed Spock's morning routine. "I do not believe it wise to discourage this trait: the galaxy needs far more bold, intelligent minds...however, I would suggest having her visit Doctor M'Benga before you depart from the Enterprise. She is having some...difficulties...processing recent events."

...As, apparently, was he. Perhaps it would be logical to seek the doctor's counsel himself...if Spock could find the time...or at least, convince Jim to do so. Certainly, if he was having difficulties, Jim was undoubtedly...distressed...as well.

Fred sighed. "I was afraid of that...Thank you, Mister Spock. I'll make sure...we'll go to see him in a couple hours. Have a good day."

"You as well."

Joanna's uncle disappeared from the doorway.

Spock took another sip of his tea; then rose; closed the door.

He checked the time...and realized that he had approximately eight minutes before he was supposed to arrive on the bridge.

He finished his breakfast quickly; straightened his uniform; headed out.

As Spock walked down the corridor, he caught two ensigns smirking in his direction; realized he had forgotten to fix his hair.

...It was going to be...as Leonard often said...a long day.


	39. Chapter 39

In Khan's experience, experimental Starfleet technologies typically fell into two distinct categories: mundane or ingenious.

With the Botany Bay ready to launch at a moment's notice, Khan finally had time to thoroughly investigate some of the items he had liberated from the research outpost three weeks prior. He had already cannibalized anything obviously useless for his own inventions; set aside a few pieces that showed potential.

Most of the salvaged items fell into the mundane category: a prototype for a tricorder with triple the sensor range; a paper–thin shock–absorbent fabric; other small achievements of science and engineering.

There were, however, a few ingenious items just waiting for Khan's expertise.

There was a half–functional machine which appeared to use transporter technology to rearrange scattered atoms into whatever object one desired. Modern synthesizers could only produce food; if he could make this far more advanced 'replicator' work, it could provide Khan's people with anything they needed.

...But his final find...it was beyond brilliant.

Khan scanned the schematics of the device in front of him. Whomever had been building it had worked from the ground up: where he would have expected Romulan energy modules, there were Federation power cells. It was nearly complete; the rest of the work was outlined in the schematics. All he needed to do was make a few minor adjustments to make it compatable with his ship, and...

In the past month, he had stolen and built enough weapons to supply an army...and yet this device could be his people's greatest defense.

Obviously, at least one of the scientists he had killed on that outpost had been remarkably bright. Perhaps he should have been more willing to take captives...

Khan grimaced; shook his head.

The one captive he _had_ taken had been challenge enough to break.

...A full minute.

The average soldier only could last about fifteen seconds before begging for the water to stop. The doctor hadn't reached that point until thirty seconds in...and it had taken another thirty seconds for McCoy to completely unravel.

That willpower...it was something Khan could respect.

Reluctantly.

The man had also spent a great deal of time crying.

...It was possible that societal norms were different in this century. The man's susceptibility to tears might be perfectly permissible to his people; seen as healthy even...but it certainly still appeared to be weakness under all of Khan's definitions.

The terrorist set down the schematics; stretched.

He felt oddly...restless. Perhaps it was the hours upon hours of staring at PADDs and working on equipment without any real physical exertion; perhaps it was impatience.

The Federation still had four and a half days to release a member of his crew, and the predictable absence of signs that they would comply was already becoming irksome.

The terrorist growled. If they did not comply, then his next bomb could not be a focused charge meant to eliminate a single opponent, like the last one had been. He would have to escalate; to kill scores of people in one blast…

The most appropriate candidate would be one of the bombs at Starfleet Academy...or the one near the President's office in Paris.

...The Paris bomb could easily take out members of the Federation Council out for lunch...it would make the greatest statement.

However, he would much prefer the Federation simply give in to his demands. He did not savor the thought of those who had not harmed his people dying for their leaders' crimes. However, if necessary, he would kill them all, just like he had done for the past...

Khan paused; frowned. "No...That cannot be right…"

...He hadn't killed everyone, had he?

The killer thought back through the last few weeks; grinned in astonishment at a new realization. He left his work; headed towards the medbay.

McCoy would never believe him.

As Khan neared the medbay, he could make out his captive's voice through the closed door.

"––another day cooped up in this damn room, I'm gonna saw my freakin' foot off!"

Khan paused outside the door; raised an eyebrow. The doctor's voice had a little more volume to it than the day before. It appeared McCoy's self–treatments were progressing, although he suspected the man was still in pain.

"Not that that'd actually help anything...still stuck out here...I'm down 'bout a half pound from yesterday morning...mashed potatoes and liquid protein snacks don't really fill ya up…"

Ah. McCoy was working on another log entry.

"But at least Khan's tryin ta help...I mean, he coulda just told me ta suck it up and eat the damn nutri...oh, damnit! Come on, Leonard!"

Khan rolled his eyes; smirked. Yes...the doctor definitely recognized the symptoms of his developing condition...but that did not mean he could prevent it.

Khan opened the door; had just enough time to see McCoy lying on his side on his biobed before the doctor dropped the PADD and scrambled to his feet.

"I–I was just takin' a quick breather," McCoy glanced worriedly at the pile of rusty panels lying next to his biobed. "I'll have the rest of 'em ready in a couple hours."

The killer studied his captive. The doctor's posture and mannerisms reeked of apprehension. It was obvious that although the events of the day before may have increased McCoy's understanding of Khan's perspective, the man was still on edge.

Khan smiled reassuringly. "It is alright, doctor: I cannot expect you to work nonstop if I myself need to take the occasional break...as I am right now."

That statement appeared to have the intended result: McCoy relaxed slightly; sat on the edge of his biobed.

"...So what? Ya just came to check up on me?"

"Not exactly," Khan shook his head; smiled. "Do you want to know what I realized moments ago, doctor?"

The doctor eyed him suspiciously.

"...What did ya realize?"

Khan chuckled. "You likely will not believe me...but I realized that I have only killed one person since you saved my life."

The doctor's brows furrowed.

"...What?"

...Yes.

That was the reaction he expected. He had nearly not believed it himself.

Was it just a coincidence, or had his subconscious turned the doctor's request into a personal challenge?

It had definitely not been a conscious choice...but this little scrap of information could help bring their relationship back to a less tense stage...if he cultivated it correctly.

"I have had multiple chances to slaughter Starfleet officers in the past month," Khan smirked. "But since you begged me to––what was the phrasing? Ah–– to 'stop butchering everyone' I met...I have only killed Admiral Alston. You are a surprisingly good influence, doctor."

McCoy stared at him, obviously trying to process the implications of that statement.

"But…" The doctor hesitated. "But what about Nitika?"

Khan's smile faded. "I am not responsible for Nitika's death, doctor: that horror belongs to your people."

For a moment, it appeared McCoy was going to argue; then he looked away.

"...Right."

Khan huffed in annoyance. "You have no idea how easy it would have been, doctor: to simply strike down any Starfleet officer I came into contact with these past few weeks. But, I did not. I have been remarkably lenient: I even let a lovestruck Russian navigator off with a treatable phaser burn when I delivered our message to your crew."

The doctor sat up ramrod straight; his eyes widened with worry.

"Chekov?" McCoy croaked. "You shot Chekov? My god, that kid's barely––"

"He came towards me in a threatening manner," Khan interrupted. "And, as I said: I did not kill him. I shot him once in the shoulder on high stun, and Doctor Chapel surely treated him immediately after I left."

McCoy blinked; confusion on his face.

"Who?"

...Interesting.

"Doctor Christine Chapel." Khan's mouth twitched. "Apparently I killed her fiance on Xedna Eight. She accompanied your young friend on a brief shore leave."

The doctor clenched his jaw; he slumped slightly.

…Did that mean…

"Doctor, do not lie: was Chapel a member of your crew before you came here?"

Slowly, McCoy shook his head.

"...Last time I saw Chapel...she was a nurse," his captive muttered. "Didn't even know she'd become a doctor."

...Given her fiance's location...perhaps Khan had missed one of his old doctors during his escape.

He could think more on that later. He wouldn't risk dividing his attention from the task at hand.

"Then she was your replacement," Khan shook his head. "It seems your friend Kirk moves on quickly. I wonder if Chapel is the new CMO, or if he has given that honor to one of your former subordinates."

McCoy shrugged defensively. "He's got a ship ta run...he can't be short a doctor for the rest of time just 'cause he mi…just 'cause I'm not there."

Khan crossed to sit on the biobed nearest the storage crates; noted the way the doctor tensed at the sudden movement.

"Once again, doctor: I am not here to hurt you."

"...Sorry."

Khan paused; considered his next move. The news of his replacement likely stung far more than McCoy was letting on...and despite the doctor's best efforts, the killer was certain he had succeeded in sowing some seeds of doubt about Kirk's character the day before.

How far could he make them grow using this small revelation?

"I am curious: why are you so certain Kirk cares about you?"

McCoy's eyes narrowed.

"I...I'm his friend. And a member of his crew. He cares about––"

"I am not asking about the rest of his crew," Khan said. "I am asking why you think _Jim_ cares what happens to you? Why you are so quick to defend him, even to someone whom you know not only sees him as an enemy, but could easily take that animosity out on you?"

The doctor swallowed. "...He'd do the same for me."

Khan snorted. It was ridiculous. That kind of blind trust...where could it come from?

"Tell me, doctor: how long have you known Kirk?"

"...A little over six years."

So they were not childhood friends...

"And how did you meet?"

"...On the shuttle ta Starfleet Academy. We signed up on the same day; ended up sitting next ta each other the whole way there."

"What was he like then?"

McCoy didn't answer.

"Doctor, do not make me begin to count silence as a lie. You know what happens when you lie."

The doctor's eyes widened.

"He was just a kid," McCoy blurted; grimaced. "Obviously not havin' the best time of things...Jim had bruises on his face from some dumbass bar fight he'd gotten into right before Pike...right before he joined up. But he was determined...we helped each other get through the Academy in only three years."

Ah.

...He could work with that.

"And then he managed to make himself Captain of the Enterprise, and made sure the man who helped him through a difficult transition would be around to help him with anything he needed," Khan said. "And you have been keeping him alive ever since, haven't you?"

Anger flashed through McCoy's eyes. "Wait just one minute, it's not––"

"Doctor, it is that simple," Khan interrupted. "You clearly do not belong in space. A true friend would have encouraged you to find a more suitable path. Instead, Kirk manipulated you into staying the course. I highly doubt reciprocity is something he practices often."

"You don't know anythin' about Jim," McCoy said firmly. "He'd give his life for his friends...he almost has a couple times."

Khan smirked. "Ah, yes: heroic James T. Kirk...spared from death after our first encounter by––and please, tell me if my information is incorrect––by his devoted CMO...Tell me, doctor: when he woke up, did he thank you for saving him?"

"'Course he did."

"Before or after he showered praise on that Vulcan?"

The doctor shifted slightly; he glanced away for a moment.

"...Why does that matter?"

...That had been a shot in the dark. He had not expected…

Khan shrugged. "I simply want to know if your 'friend' values your contributions to his survival as much as he does those of the man who made me believe all of my people had been slaughtered in the blink of an eye...for a man of your compassion, you keep odd company."

"Spock was just tryin' ta stop you from killin' us," McCoy insisted. "He never would've hurt them."

...That was a fair point. Khan remembered the Vulcan's protests when Alston gave the order to kill Nitika. He even suspected Spock had something to do with Chapel's comment about someone being 'out cold...' especially after finding Alston under house arrest.

"But I could not have known that at the time, doctor," Khan remarked. "Admiral Marcus had none of your reservations about murder."

"Well, we're not all like Marcus," McCoy was obviously working hard to control his temper. "Most people in Starfleet don't go around changin' people's faces against their wills, or tryin' ta start interstellar wars, and we're definitely not all murderers! I've never ki…"

McCoy froze; went quiet.

Khan frowned; tilted his head.

...Why had he stopped himself from saying...

"...Oh, now _that_ is interesting," Khan grinned; leaned forward. "Could it be that my compassionate, kind hearted, self–righteous doctor...has killed someone?"

McCoy's face went blank; he stared at his hands.

"It's...it's not that simple––"

"Of course not!" Khan chuckled. "It never is...doctor, I would like to hear this story. Please, spare no details."

"I…" McCoy toyed with the ring on his pinky finger. "I'd really appreciate it if ya'd let this go. Please."

Oh, that was...simply not going to happen.

"Now, doctor," Khan admonished. "You have been judging me for being a killer since you came here...I simply wish to know how deep your hypocrisy runs. Tell me, or this situation will turn unpleasant."

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Look, everybody's got their sob story. I get it: you told me yours yesterday, and now ya wanna hear mine…but can't we please talk about somethin' else?"

...Had McCoy just called what Marcus and his doctors had done a 'sob story?'

...It appeared the man wanted to make this difficult.

Khan rose to his feet; the doctor's eyes widened.

"I...I've got a lot of other things I can talk about...Why don't you just let me tell ya about the time Jim and I almost accidentally married…"

McCoy trailed off as Khan crossed to the medical supplies; found the bandages.

"...What're ya doing?"

Khan huffed as he tore off an arm's length of the cloth. "You know where this is going...unless you truly have forgotten what I do to punish lies?"

The doctor's face lost its color.

"I'm not...please...not...not the water...not again."

Khan let out a long breath; tore another strip.

"It takes a few of these bandages to properly restrain you...so you still have time to simply divulge what I wish to know."

Despite what McCoy might think, he did not relish the idea of repeating this punishment. It was messy, and carried the risk of accidentally drowning his captive...and, in truth, he could almost hear Nitika's voice in his mind...telling him that it was wrong.

...But the doctor knew the rules...and was still being stubborn.

Khan readied another length of bandage.

"Stop!" McCoy's voice cracked.

Khan paused mid–rip.

The doctor's eyes were wide with panic; he was practically cutting off circulation to his pinky finger by gripping that ring so tightly.

...Whatever this killing turned out to be, it was obviously connected to McCoy's decision to join Starfleet...and possibly even something to do with Kirk.

Khan stared the man down.

"Why should I stop?"

The doctor's face fell. He rubbed his face in his hands; clenched them together again; he shuddered.

"L...Look…I...I've never told anyone this story...not even Jim knows it...It's the worst thing I've ever...I'll...just please...put the bandages down...I'll tell ya, okay?"

...Better. Much better.

Khan set the bandages back on the shelf; crossed back to the biobed by the storage crates; sat facing his captive.

He gave the man a reassuring smile; attempted to put on the persona of a counselor. There was no need to frighten the man further.

"Who did you kill, doctor?"

McCoy studied his hands.

"Doctor, I am not going to waste the day waiting for you to begin. Tell me."

His captive muttered something Khan could not quite make out.

"A little louder, if you would be so kind."

The doctor glared for a brief moment; looked down again.

"...My...My father, okay? I...I killed...my father."

The terrorist blinked.

...Had McCoy just said he'd killed...

Khan burst into laughter.

"Really, doctor? You truly expect me to believe you committed patricide? That might just be hilarious enough to prevent me from punishing the obvious lie!"

"...You asked..." McCoy didn't look up. "And I answered. Got any other questions?"

Khan stopped laughing; frowned; studied his captive more closely. There was no sign of sarcasm or deceit in his features: just slumped shoulders, and a neck that appeared unable to support the weight of the man's head.

...He was not lying.

"...I apologize," Khan said soberly. "I thought...Was he a cruel man? Is that why you killed him?"

McCoy shook his head. "I loved him. He was a good man. Kind. A doctor...he was the reason I became a doctor...I wanted to live up to him. Ta help people, just like he did..."

"Then what? Was there an accident?"

"...No...no accident."

"Oh, come now!" This was ridiculous. "I can hardly see you killing a man you cared for that deeply in cold blood. Just tell me what happened!"

A teardrop fell onto McCoy's lap; quickly followed by another.

...The man had not even bothered to blink. What an odd experience that must have been: to have one's vision warp as a sphere of salty water fell away from the pupil...

"He...he got sick...really sick."

...Oh.

"Something incurable, I presume?"

McCoy nodded; more drops fell. "A degenerative disease...caught during a conference on one of the colonies...rapid aging and severe muscular degradation. He...he went from a fit seventy one year–old...to looking like somebody in their hundred fifties...in less than four months. The best life support system around could only slow down the damage...and nothing could keep up with the pain."

Khan's eyes widened in understanding.

"He asked you to do it, didn't he?"

The doctor was shaking.

"I didn't want to...I...A few weeks before, when his hands still worked...he signed a buncha papers that said it was what he wanted...so it'd be legal...so I wouldn't get my licence taken away if...I tried ta say no. I wasn't gonna give up hope...I wasn't about ta...but he just kept asking...and asking...and asking...he said he wanted me to 'release' him; to let him go...to...God, he was in so much pain! He could barely talk, let alone move his head...the machines were the only thing keeping him alive, and he was in agony...I couldn't just stand there, and watch him suffer! I couldn't..."

Khan was baffled. How could McCoy have so much guilt over the death of a man who had literally begged for the end? It had clearly been a mercy!

...Unless…

"...When did they find the cure?" Khan asked softly.

McCoy finally looked up, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Sixteen days later," He whispered. "I barely slept those four months, tryin ta cure the thing myself, and I got nowhere, and sixteen goddamn days after he...after I...if I had just...I coulda kept him alive for sixteen more days! If I had known they were that close––if somebody had bothered ta give me a heads up on that goddamn research––I could've...he woulda made it! Dad woulda…"

McCoy covered his mouth with his hands; tried in vain to hold in a sob; folded in on himself.

Khan watched his captive fall apart, for once unsure what to do.

A part of him was...annoyed. He thought the story was going to reveal something he could lord over McCoy: some patient he had intentionally allowed to die in order to further his career, or at least a case of self–defense that he could use to justify his own actions to his captive.

Had either of those scenarios been the truth, then Khan would have had a strategy for how to use the information; how to handle whatever emotions the story elicited from the doctor.

...But this?

Khan stared at the man weeping in front of him...and realized that he had made a mistake.

The terrorist had not handled Nitika's death well...at least in part because he knew his own mistakes had made it inevitable. But his people still needed him; he had to keep going.

But how could McCoy, a normal human, have kept going after a similar event? Why did this fragile man go into space after learning firsthand what dangers lurked on even 'tamed' worlds?

...Atonement. He had joined Starfleet as a form of atonement.

It was little wonder McCoy was breaking so inconsistently: his fiery defiances and sarcastic comments...they were what he used to mend a psychological shield that had shattered years before Khan ever met him.

Though his temperament was vastly different, this man's willpower could easily be as great as his own.

...If Khan had been raised in McCoy's time...would he have responded to the world the same way his captive had?

Khan immediately discarded that thought. He had been created to lead a world that barely attempted to mask its cruelty. He offered that world order the only ways they understood: manipulation...and violence. Anything could be weaponized, if one needed it to be.

The doctor shuddered; sniffed. He seemed to finally be collecting himself…

...Affection could be a far more powerful weapon than a phaser or a blade.

That...that was why Khan found himself crossing to Mccoy's biobed; sitting; wrapping his arms around the doctor's shoulders.

His captive jolted; tensed so completely that Khan was not certain the man was breathing. He could practically hear McCoy's mind scrambling to find a safe reaction to the unexpected contact.

"What...what the hell are you doing?"

...He could have thought of something better.

"It is called a hug, doctor." Khan said grimly. "They are used to comfort people in pain."

Another shudder ran through the doctor.

"...I'll...I'll be fine. Ya can let me go."

McCoy tried to pull away; the terrorist tightened his grip.

"You know that won't work," Khan said quietly. "If I simply left now, you would likely spend the rest of the afternoon like this...and I would prefer you finished your assigned tasks. I will let you go when you truly stop crying, understand?"

The doctor sucked in a shaky breath, obviously preparing to object...but then his breath hitched again, and the man's entire body drooped.

"F...Fine."

McCoy shook as his head leaned against Khan's arm.

The killer felt tears soak his sleeve.


	40. Chapter 40

"And zen I said I hoped we could still be friends...And zat's when Khan showed up...and made fun of me...and zen shot me."

Sulu held back a sigh; checked their flight plan again.

He was glad Pavel was back at his post, safe and sound. The kid had given everybody a fright with that phaser wound…

But he wouldn't stop talking.

"I zink I might have really messed up," Pavel said. "I was so embarrassed, I skipped breakfast zis morning...I don't want to lose her as a friend because I was such an idiot...What do you zink I should do?"

Sulu glanced over at his friend; back to the controls. "Look...I don't want you to take this the wrong way––"

"I won't. I prom––"

"But," the pilot continued. "As I see it, if you want Doctor Chapel to keep being your friend, you've only got one option."

He could almost feel the puppy dog eyes on him...

"What is it?"

Sulu turned; stared the puppy dog eyes down.

"Stop being an idiot."

...How could those eyes get any wider?

"An idiot? I am not––"

"If you want to be her friend, you don't bail on breakfast to avoid embarrassing yourself," Sulu interrupted. "You go to breakfast, like you have for the past month, and you sit with her, and talk about pancakes or syrup or whatever it is you two normally talk about when you're barely awake. Note word 'normally.' Here, it means that you don't repeatedly turn the conversation back to what happened on Cerberus."

"But I really zink––"

"You want to fix this? You want to be her friend?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then stop hiding. Stop worrying about fixing things. Just _be_ her friend."

Pavel opened his mouth...apparently ready to argue with him...and Kirk chimed in from the command chair.

"Sulu's right, Chekov," The captain said. "Do you have any idea how many people I've dated––and I mean dated––that I stayed friends with afterwards? Quite a few. The trick is not to make things weird."

With a mortified look, Pavel swiveled in his chair to face their commanding officer.

"Captain...you could hear what we were talking about?"

This time, Spock chimed in.

"Mister Chekov: the bridge is a relatively small and quiet place...and, as you were...highly animated...in your storytelling, everyone here could hear your conversation."

Sulu angled his chair so he could both watch the show and keep them from crashing into something; blinked in confusion at Spock's oddly messy hair.

...Had he forgotten to comb it, or was he trying something new? Either option was shocking.

Pavel went red. "I...I did not realize I was talking zat loudly, commander."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Then I would suggest that the next time you feel it is necessary to discuss personal matters while at your station, you might want to consider using...I believe the Earth expression is: 'your indoor voice.'"

"...Aye, sir."

"Don't feel bad, Chekov," Kirk smiled softly. "I'm sure you've overheard a lot of our conversations the past few years...some more awkward than others."

Sulu couldn't suppress a snort when he saw Uhura shoot him an look from across the room.

Yep.

Lots of awkward conversations had been overheard on that bridge.

"...Aye, sir."

Kirk nodded. "Mister Sulu, how much longer till we reach Starbase Twenty?"

The pilot turned back to his controls; double–checked the readout.

"One hour, captain."

"Good…" The humor left the captain's voice. "Mister Chekov: how long would it take us to reach Xedna Eight from Starbase Twenty?"

Sulu frowned. Why were they going back to Xedna Eight? The outpost was empty...

"It would take about four days and five hours at warp six to reach ze planet."

Kirk let out a frustrated sigh. "That's nearly all the time we...Alright...Chekov: do you think you can handle the helm if I steal Sulu away for a bit?"

The pilot's frown deepened; he turned back to the captain.

"Sir?"

"I just need to go over some logistics with you, Sulu," Kirk assured him. "How about it, Chekov?"

The navigator nodded. "I can do zat."

"Great," the captain rose. "Mister Sulu, Mister Spock, please meet me in the briefing room as soon as you can. Lieutenant Uhura, you have the bridge."

"Yes, captain," Uhura said as she crossed to the command chair.

Sulu quickly shifted helm control from his console to Chekov's; stood; followed Kirk and Spock into the briefing room just off from the bridge.

Kirk dropped into the chair at the far end of the long glass table.

"Take a seat, gentlemen."

Sulu and Spock sat across from each other; waited patiently for their captain to tell them why they were there.

From this close, Kirk's eyes looked slightly red; irritated...almost like he'd been crying...

Kirk gave Spock a small smirk. "Trying something new with your hair today?"

...Maybe it was just Sulu's imagination, but the Vulcan seemed to tense a little.

"...Yes."

...Definitely not his imagination.

Kirk smiled slightly. "I like it. Kind of a punk look."

Spock tilted his head. "Why I would want to be compared to a 'punk?' Is that not considered a derogatory term?"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," the captain shook his head. "I meant the classical music definition of punk...maybe you should try some eyeliner or eyeshadow with it...see how it goes."

"Captain, I assume you did not ask us here to discuss my appearance," Spock said. "Have the admirals made a decision?"

Kirk shrugged. "Kind of…Mister Sulu: while the Withers' and Joanna McCoy are debarking at Starbase Twenty…I want you to start plotting a course for Xedna Eight. I'll talk to Scotty to see if we can't risk jumping up to warp seven for a while to cut our time down."

Sulu winced.

"Everything alright?" Kirk asked.

"Yeah," Sulu said. "It's just...Scotty won't like that. I saw him this morning getting breakfast with Keenser. The man was putting a blue liquid in his coffee and mumbling something about personally nursing the nacelles...That can't be a good sign."

The captain huffed; shook his head. "No...sure doesn't sound like it...Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Captain," Spock said. "As we are going back to Xedna Eight...does this mean Starfleet Command has agreed to Khan's terms?"

"Terms?" Sulu asked.

The first officer looked at Kirk, who nodded. "I want to bring Sulu into the loop on these conversations. Things have gotten...He's third in command, so it makes sense that he should know what's going on...in case something happens."

Spock raised an eyebrow; turned to Sulu. "Mister Sulu, Khan has threatened to detonate bombs throughout Federation space if his crew is not returned to him in a timely manner."

"We have four days til he's supposed to set one off," Kirk said. "Or...I should say, another one...Admiral Alston is dead."

Sulu straightened in his chair. "What? How?"

"Khan somehow found out Alston was under house arrest, and put a bomb in his bedroom," Kirk sighed. "Luckily, his guards only got minor injuries; they're gonna be okay...but Alston died instantly."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "This first bomb, although small, is likely meant as a message that he can attack any location he desires."

"And that he's out for the blood of anyone who's ever endangered his crew," Kirk added. "But no, Spock: they haven't agreed. Starfleet still can't make up their minds on what to do. I spent most the night on the line with the admiralty. Half of them think giving Khan his crew and hoping for the best is the only chance we have of keeping more people from dying, and the other half insist that the Federation can't give in to Khan's demands or we'll end up with seventy two Khan's on our hands instead of the one...or two...that we have now."

Sulu frowned. "Two?"

"I believe the captain is referring to the woman Khan rescued a little over a week ago," Spock said. "If I remember correctly, he called her Nitika. There is no way to know if Khan was successful in reviving her, but with Doctor McCoy...under his control...it is quite possible that she is alive, and capable of causing just as much destruction as her leader."

"Right," Sulu nodded in understanding. "So, we may or may not have two terrorists on our hands, along with a ton of bombs that could be anywhere in Federation space, and Starfleet Command can't decide what they want to do about it."

"That about sums it up," Kirk agreed; drooped slightly in his chair. "And...even if they decided right this minute that they were going to let one of them go...it's probably already too late to stop the next bomb."

"What?" How could that be? "But you said we had four days left!"

"Technically, yes," Spock said. "However, all the outposts that we know for certain contain at least one Augment are too far away from our current location to reach, and still travel to Xedna Eight in time to stop the detonation."

"That's right," Kirk nodded. "And if there _is_ an Augment close enough to make it work, Starfleet Command's not exactly being forthcoming with that info. Guess they're worried about how far Khan might've hacked into our comm system. He had to be in pretty deep to find out about Cerberus..."

"Then why are we going to Xedna Eight?" Sulu asked.

The captain went quiet for a moment; let out a breath.

"I convinced the admirals that there was a good chance that Khan's using the subspace beacon near Xedna Eight to access the Federation communication network. Uhura might be able to figure out where he's accessing the beacon from, if she can get a good look at it…"

Well, that made sense...but why was Kirk being so...he didn't know how to describe how Kirk was acting.

"...And I'm going to try to talk to him."

Sulu blinked.

Spock spoke before he could. "Captain...what are you planning to say to Khan? We do not have time to collect a member of his crew, and that appears to be all that he cares about. There is nothing we can offer him that would make a diff––"

"What about a Starfleet captain?" Kirk blurted. "A valuable hostage, in exchange for not killing who knows how many innocent people in four days...it might...it might work."

Sulu and Spock stared at him.

Kirk's face was grim, but there was a determination on it that the pilot really, really did not like the look of.

"...Captain, surrendering yourself to Khan would not...be logical," Spock's voice was level. "Khan has no qualms with torture, and your history with him is far more personal than his history with Doctor McCoy. If Khan was willing to do what he did to...do you not understand what he would do to you?"

Sulu sucked in a breath. The whole crew had been told that Khan's message had proven that Doctor McCoy was still alive, but only Kirk, Spock, Doctor M'Benga, and the admirals had seen the actual video. Jim had even ordered Uhura not to monitor the feed when they showed it to the admiralty…

...What had Khan done to Doctor McCoy?

"Probably nothing good…" Kirk admitted. "But Spock...you saw...you saw the video. You saw what he...he tortured him, Spock. God...he looked like hell...And who knows how much worse it's been than what we saw! Who knows what Khan's...If I was there, at least there'd be someone to ground him. A friendly face to...Bones shouldn't have to go through this; especially not alone."

The pilot stared in shock. It was no wonder the captain hadn't let anybody else see the video: he certainly never wanted to see…

"Jim," Spock said quietly. "I know how much you care about him. But I cannot let you sacrifice your––"

"I know!" Kirk groaned. "Look, I know it's a stupid idea. I'm just spitballing; trying to find a way to stop more innocent people from dying...and if there was any chance that that would work––"

"There is no chance, Captain," Spock interrupted. "I understand your desire to minimize Khan's body count...however that plan...it would not save anyone. In all likelihood, he would accept your offer, and then detonate another bomb the moment you were incapacitated...or killed."

"Spock's right," Sulu agreed. "He'd never keep his end of that deal...and he'd probably torture you...or Doctor McCoy...again...if he realizes that you know where some of his crew is being held."

"Mister Sulu makes an important point," Spock noted. "You know a lot of classified information, captain. From a...non personal standpoint...if you handed yourself over to Khan, the danger he poses to the Federation could easily be increased by tenfold. No matter what happens, you cannot follow through on that plan."

Kirk rubbed his face in his hands; stood; stared out the window at the stars streaking past.

"Then I need options," Kirk declared. "Like it or not, we're heading to Xedna Eight to try to have a chat with that...psychopath. I'd rather not put anyone in danger...myself included...unless I have no other choice."

Sulu could see the captain's reflection in the glass...and realized the man looked far older than he had a month before. His eyes held far more doubt; far less of that cocky confidence that had stayed with him throughout his first few years of command...that confidence that reassured his crew that everything was going to be okay...

...And Sulu worried that Kirk might never get it back.


	41. Chapter 41

"Doctor."

A hand nudged Leonard's shoulder.

He shifted; rolled onto his side; felt his hand flop over the edge of...

Damn...he must've fallen asleep on the biobed in his office again.

"...'M fine, M'Benga. Just let me sleep."

M'Benga was usually really good about making sure Leonard actually got some rest after a long shift. Why was he––

The nudge turned into a shove.

"Doctor, wake up."

...That wasn't M'Benga.

Leonard's eyes cracked open; he froze.

After a heartbeat of terror, his memories screeched back into place; the doctor took a deep breath.

...Right.

Of course that wasn't...he'd never see M'Benga again.

"Khan," Leonard's left side twinged as he sat up with a groan; rubbed his eyes as they protested the brightness of the room. "Christ, what time is it?"

The terrorist let out a frustrated sigh. "It is a little past o–three–hundred, doctor. Get up."

"Three a.m.?"

Why the hell...

Leonard quickly looked the man over. Khan didn't seem to be hurt: no cuts or bruises or chunks of metal sticking out of him. Not even a tear in that giant coat he liked so much. And since the ship wasn't shaking, and the only thing in the terrorist's hands was a PADD, he doubted they were under attack.

Maybe something had broken in the engine room, or the water line had sprung a leak. They were on a pretty old bucket of bolts, so anything was possible…

"Somethin' wrong with the ship?" Leonard asked.

Khan ignored his question; tapped something into the PADD; the chain on Leonard's left ankle clicked open.

"Come along, doctor. Quickly."

The killer headed for the door.

In a daze, Leonard slid off the biobed; grimaced. The floor always felt like ice on his feet when he first got up...

...Maybe...in another month or so...he'd finally get used to it...

As the doctor followed Khan through the halls, his grogginess finally began to fade...and apprehension set in.

Khan never woke him up this early; the past few days, he'd even let him sleep a little longer than usual. He couldn't figure out...

"Khan...What's goin' on?"

...No answer.

"Guess I'm not much of a morning person either," Leonard muttered. "Or a middle–a–the–night person...or whatever ya wanna call––"

"Doctor."

"Yeah?"

"Be quiet."

Leonard sighed; kept walking.

He didn't like this. This wasn't normal...

Then again, what the hell was 'normal?' Things hadn't exactly been 'normal' in forty freakin' days.

...Jesus, had it really been that long? If this were a bible story, by now he'd be climbing into a giant boat to escape flood waters, or hopping down a mountain with some new laws, or just doing...something...more than meekly following his captor through the ship...

...Well, he wasn't...he wasn't like them, now was he? The people in those stories were far stronger than he could ever hope to be.

They wouldn't have caved. They would have fought that hug, not leaned into it; not cried in that...in Khan's arms...no matter how badly they needed...something...anything...resembling comfort.

But how... _why_ was he supposed to keep fighting all the time? What was the point? He could yell and scream and snark until his voice gave out, or until Khan got sick of his whining, and all that would change was the amount of pain he was in...and who else was put in danger.

...It helped that Khan hadn't been...punchy...for the past few days. Ever since the...hug...he was actually being kind of decent: giving Leonard more food, now that his throat was better; taking him off the chain for a bit each night so he could stretch his legs; let his ankle have a full range of motion for a while; Khan even said something the day before about possibly scrounging up books for him to read. As in, _actual_ books! Stories he could devour after he finished his work for the day; something besides his journal to keep his mind sharp…

Leonard ran a hand through his hair. It probably looked like a rat's nest, but his captor didn't seem to mind, so he guessed it didn't really matter.

...He could...cope...with this routine. He could play by Khan's rules...

...He had to.

Leonard just wished the terrorist wasn't being so mysterious. It looked like they were headed for the bridge, but as far as he knew, they'd fixed everything that was possible to fix in there. So, either something had broken, or…he didn't know what.

Khan stopped just short of the bridge's entrance; sighed; glanced back at him with a...sad...look on his face.

The hairs on the back of the doctor's neck started to rise.

Too nice.

Khan was being too nice.

"...Is this some kind of Lennie and George thing?"

The killer tilted his head.

"Lennie and George?"

"Of Mice and Men," Leonard nervously explained. "Steinbeck...You're not about ta have me stare out that giant window, and talk about my happy place, and...'Cause...if that's what this is...you shoulda just done it in my sleep. I was havin' a really good dream."

Khan laughed dryly.

"Is _that_ what you think is happening, doctor? You truly think I woke you in the middle of the night; brought you to the bridge...just to...honestly, doctor? What would be the sense in that?"

The doctor let himself relax a little. "I knew it probably wasn't...I just...you were bein' so quiet––"

"Trust me, doctor: if I decide to kill you, you will not have any doubts about my intentions," Khan walked through the door.

Leonard tried not to put too much stock in that 'if' Khan had used; followed Khan inside...

The bridge didn't look much different than the last time he'd been brought there. Fewer tools lying around; some weird machine he didn't recognize was hooked up to one of the emergency power cells, but it didn't look like it was turned on.

"What's that?" Leonard pointed to the device.

Khan glanced at it; crossed to a control panel. "Just something I am testing. It is not why you are here. Let it be; take a look at the screen."

The doctor's eyes shifted to where the killer gestured; he froze.

The panel's monitor was small, but he could make out a room he'd never seen before...and a man with blond hair...wearing a gold uniform...pacing back and forth.

"Jim," Leonard breathed.

Dear god! How did Khan get to him? What was he gonna...oh god...no...

The doctor rushed to the monitor.

"Jim!"

His friend...just kept pacing.

"He cannot hear you, doctor," Khan said. "He may not even know he is being watched...although I am certain he suspects it."

Leonard turned to his captor.

"Where is he? Where are you keeping––"

"I am not keeping him anywhere, doctor," Khan interrupted. "That is the control room of the Starfleet facility on Xedna Eight. He arrived about half an hour ago...and does not show any sign of leaving. He even put the shield up, likely in an attempt to prevent me from beaming over and...well..."

...Oh.

Leonard rested his hand next to the screen. Jim didn't seem hurt, or afraid, or...anything else he would be if Khan had him.

...Oh, thank god…

"Of course, I can disable that shield at any time," Khan put his PADD in his coat pocket; pulled out his personal transporter. "I seized control of that facility's systems over a month ago. If I so desire, I can turn off life support...or open all the airlocks...or turn off the shield and beam down...all from right here...and he could do nothing to prevent it."

The doctor's eyes went wide.

"He...he's probably got a member of your crew down there!"

Khan shook his head. "Kirk's lifesigns are the only ones registering on Xedna Eight. I suspect he is here to negotiate...which will prove foolhardy, but possibly entertaining...What do you think I should do, doctor?"

"...What?"

Khan shrugged. "I have three options: kill or capture Kirk now, or ignore him until he gives up and leaves––and that option will very likely lead to a bomb being detonated tomorrow––or, I can talk to him; see if he surprises me with some useful reason for being here...and possibly prevent tomorrow's bomb from going off. But, if I make contact, and discover he is wasting my time...the situation will turn...highly unpleasant. Which route should I take?"

Was Khan really asking him to...How was he supposed decide something like that? Obviously, he wanted to stop Jim from getting killed, or letting a bomb go off...but what the hell did 'highly unpleasant' mean?

Did it mean that if Khan talked to Jim, and didn't hear something he liked, that he'd kill Jim _and_ set off a bomb? Or did it mean that he'd do something even worse? What if...

...It was a risk. But it was the only option that had even a remote chance of keeping everybody alive.

"Talk to him," Leonard said. "Please...maybe the Federation's ready ta make a deal. Ya won't know unless you try."

That weird, sad, look flashed across Khan's face again.

"Very well, doctor. Stand to the side of the screen, out of his view...and keep quiet unless I give you permission to speak, understand?"

Leonard nodded; stepped back. "Whatever ya want. Just please, don't hurt anybody."

The killer turned away; put the transported back in his pocket; pressed a button on the control panel.

"Hello, captain."

On the monitor, Jim stopped pacing; looked around.

"Khan," Jim called out. "I was starting to think I should just try back in the morning."

"Go to the communications monitor, Kirk," Khan tapped another button. "And we can converse like civilized men."

His friend turned to the screen; walked over.

"Civilized...right."

Khan huffed. "Do you have an objection to the title?"

"I don't know too many 'civilized' people who would torture a defenseless man just to prove a point."

Leonard winced.

...He'd seen it. Jim'd seen the video. Of course he had...that had to have been half the reason Khan'd made it...but the thought of his friends seeing him like that...it was humiliating.

Khan hummed. "Perhaps not. Some of the measures I have been forced to undertake in the past few years are far more...barbaric...than I usually resorted to in my own time...But perhaps that says more about your society than it does me."

Jim glared; opened his mouth...and then sighed; shook his head.

"I didn't come here to pick a fight...Is Doctor McCoy alright?"

"He is fine, captain," Khan said. "And how is your young navigator––Chekov, correct? I hope I did not ruin his budding romance with that lovely young doctor."

"They're both fine," the captain said. "Fully recovered."

Leonard quietly let out a sigh of relief. Chekov was okay. Khan hadn't lied about...he was okay.

Khan nodded. "That is good to hear. I would hate to kill off two of Doctor Chapel's suitors within two months. It might make her afraid of falling in love."

Jim's eye twitched. "I'd like to see my CMO."

"Oh, of course you would, captain," Khan grinned. "He is good company. _Bones_ and I have been getting to know each other quite well."

"...What does that mean?"

The killer's eyebrow rose. "Just that I now know things about him that you do not. It took a bit of...effort...to make him compliant, but I don't believe it will be necessary to repeat those punishments for some time."

The doctor suppressed a shudder; shook his head. If he played his cards right, the water would never, ever, come back.

Jim's face was turning red. "What did you do to him?!"

Khan sighed; turned to Leonard. "As reluctant as I am to admit it: you were right, doctor. He does care...far more than I thought."

His friend stiffened; his eyes went wide.

"Bones..." Jim breathed. "Bones, are you there?"

The doctor opened his mouth; closed it after a look from his captor.

Khan smirked; turned back to the viewscreen. "He is...and he is being a very good boy; following my instructions to the letter."

Jim's jaw clenched.

...Probably because of the 'good boy' thing. It barely even phased Leonard anymore, but for anyone not used to it…

...Damn, he was screwed up.

"Can I talk to him?" Jim asked "I just...please, let me talk to him."

The killer rolled his eyes. "Very well, if it will speed things along. Come here doctor."

Hesitantly, Leonard stepped in front of the screen; nodded to his friend.

Jim's shoulders relaxed a little. "Bones...Hey...how are you?"

The doctor glanced at Khan. His captor swept his hand towards the screen; invited him to speak.

"I'm...fine...Jim." What a load of crap... "It's good to see ya...Is everyone okay over there?"

Jim shrugged; tried to smile. "We're alright...but it's not the same, being out here without you to save our butts."

Leonard's lip twitched. "Well, ya look like you're in one piece...so I guess M'Benga's doin' a fine job himself."

...And Doctor Chapel…where had Jim found the time to pick up a new crewmember?

...That wasn't important. There was something else he needed to know.

"…Joanna?"

"She's...somewhere safe," Jim's smile grew a little. "She really liked the sehlat figurine you got her...and the look on Spock's face was priceless."

Leonard let himself laugh. "I bet it was...I wish I'd been there to see it…"

"Me too," Khan interjected. "I have only seen Vulcans be stoic or furious. It would be...fascinating...to see something else on those features."

Leonard's smile faded; so did Jim's.

Khan continued. "And Joanna! I cannot imagine what a handful she is going to be in a few years, if her father is any indication. Tell me, Kirk: does she have her father's stubborn streak?"

"...She's a good kid," Jim scowled. "Are you really resorting to threatening children?"

"You are not in a good position to condemn threats, captain," Khan warned. "...Doctor, why don't you ask your friend how _compassionately_ your leaders treated Nitika?"

Leonard swallowed.

Not this again. It wasn't true. It…

...Why did Jim suddenly look so...ashamed?

Khan nudged him. "Go on, Doctor. Ask away."

"Jim…" This was stupid...but he knew better than to ignore Khan's order. "Did...you never used any of Khan's crew as bait, right?"

Leonard waited for his friend's indignation; his quick, offended shout of 'of course not!' It was Jim: he'd never actually…

But Jim was quiet.

The doctor's breath caught.

...No.

"...Right, Jim?"

His friend sighed. "It wasn't...it wasn't that simple, Bones."

The doctor's stomach dropped.

He...he'd been counting on that being something Khan'd made up to screw with him.

How could Jim have done that to Nitika? How could he have...

"Dammit, Jim!" Leonard whispered. "What were you thinking?"

Khan chimed in before the captain could speak. "He was thinking about stopping a threat to his society...by any means necessary. What does it matter if a few innocent members of my family have guns put to their heads...just as long as the Federation is safe?"

"It wasn't like that!" Jim insisted. "You're trying to make it sound like I––"

A light started flashing on the control panel, accompanied by a series of beeps.

"What's that?" The doctor asked.

Khan glanced down; tisked. "Kirk...did you really think I would set up this surveillance system without taking precautions?"

The captain glared. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the person attempting to trace my location via the subspace beacon." The terrorist shrugged. "They will fail...as will your oncoming rapid attempt to persuade me to not detonate one of my bombs tomorrow...In fact, your pointless visit may just convince me to speed up my timeline."

"There's no need for that," Jim urged. "Look...Starfleet Command can't agree to releasing your people without knowing where they'll go next. That's why we offered Ceti Alpha V! And the President of the Federation is still willing to hold up that deal, just as long as you don't––"

"I have heard this speech before, Kirk!" Khan snapped. "You know my answer to that idiocy. You are wasting my time."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose.

...His migraines were back. How long had his migraines been back?

"Khan, you gave us less than a week to pick up a member of your crew, and bring them here. It wasn't enough time to––"

"So you say, and yet I can beam my way to Earth in an instant."

"Starfleet Command won't let me just––"

"And when has that ever stopped you? Do you not have enough incentive?"

Leonard felt a hand wrap around his left arm, just above the wrist. He glanced down at it; then up at Khan. The killer stared at the screen...and wouldn't look at him.

...And just like that, _all_ the alarm bells in the doctor's head went off.

Leonard tried to pull his arm away; couldn't. The thumb was on top, like Khan was trying to get leverage. Like he was about to...

"Oh, god! Please, don't!"

Jim's brow furrowed with worry and confusion. "Bones, what's happening?"

"Remember this moment, Kirk." Khan yanked Leonard's arm up to the viewscreen. "Remember it, and every time Starfleet brings up that broken compromise as a viable option; every time one of those admirals unveils their 'brilliant' new plan to capture me; every time they suggest threatening a member of my crew to force my surrender...remember what happens when someone forces my hand."

The thumb on the doctor's arm pressed down; the rest of the hand jerked upwards.

Bones snapped.

Leonard shrieked.

The killer dropped the wrist; quickly pinned the captive against his chest before the doctor could bolt across the room.

Leonard cradled his broken arm with his right hand; sucked air in and out rapidly through his nose; tried not to sob.

"My apologies, doctor," Khan muttered in his ear. "I'll help you fix it when we're done."

...Seriously?!

Leonard bit his lip to hold back the string of curses that threatened to cascade out of his mouth. He shook with pain and fear and fury and anything else his brain could muster up.

 _This_ why the asshole had given him such a sad look before bringing him in here! He knew he was probably gonna...that psychopathic bastard!

He heard Jim shouting something; tried to focus on the monitor.

There were tears in his friend's eyes; his face was scarlet.

"Stop hurting him! He's done nothing to––"

"Captain, this man has been suffering for your mistakes for well over a month. Why should today be any different?"

"Dammit, Khan! Don't––"

"Why not? You ask me not to detonate a bomb; not to use my leverage...and yet you offer me nothing but empty promises of a home my people will never see! What other option do I have but to––"

"Then take me!"

Leonard's ragged breath caught.

...What had Jim just...?

"Kirk...Could you repeat that?"

Jim took a deep breath; let it out slowly.

"Protecting people...protecting my crew…is my responsibility. So...instead of blowing something up, or hurting Doctor McCoy...take me as a hostage. A starfleet captain's a pretty good bargaining chip...especially the captain of the flagship. Stop hurting innocent people and I...I'll surrender."

...No.

Nononononono!

That could _not_ happen!

"Jim, no!" Leonard croaked. "Absolutely not!"

Spock's muffled voice jumped in from something the doctor couldn't see.

" _Captain! You promised you would not do this!"_

Jim fumbled with his pocket; pulled out an open communicator.

"I'm sorry, Spock...but I've gotta try...I...It's been an honor. Keep the crew safe, okay?"

" _But Cap––"_

The captain flipped the device shut; Spock's voice cut out.

He couldn't let him do this!

"Please Jim, listen to Spock!" Leonard begged. "Get out of––"

A hand clamped over his mouth.

Leonard squirmed; tried to pull away from the hand cov––

Khan's elbow jabbed his broken arm.

The doctor couldn't hold back a whimper as his vision swam.

He stopped struggling; tried to focus again.

Jim glared at the terrorist through the screen.

"What do you say, Khan? Do we have a deal?"

Goddamn that self–sacrificial idiot!

Khan would kill Jim if he surrendered! That sadist would torture and kill Leonard's best friend, and there would be nothing he could do to stop––

"No."

Leonard blinked.

Jim blinked.

Khan chuckled; lifted his hand from the doctor's mouth.

"Did you really think I would let you martyr yourself like that, captain?"

The terrorist's hand made its way to Leonard's hair; started...petting...him. His skin crawled.

"I will admit, breaking you like I have broken your friend would be...satisfying...but in the end, it would be wasteful."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "How would...What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, Kirk, you do catch on quickly!" Khan snorted. "When you leave that outpost, you are going to tell those cowards back at Starfleet Command that my demands have changed. One week is not enough time? Fine. You now have three weeks to deliver at least _a quarter_ of my crew to Xedna Eight, or I will detonate _eight_ bombs throughout Federation space."

"Come on, you know they won't––"

Leonard winced as the killer grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"We are playing _my_ game now, captain," Khan snarled. "I have no need to follow the rules of lesser minds. My bombs are in place. I can set any of them off at any time...including the one on the vessel from which you beamed down."

...Dear god, the Enterprise! He was gonna blow up the Enterprise!

"No!" The doctor croaked. "Please...please don't––"

"Quiet, doctor," the terrorist's hand twisted; sent needles of pain through Leonard's scalp. "Kirk, if you have anything to say to your friend, I suggest you say it now. I cannot guarantee what his condition will be in three weeks time."

"Don't do this, Khan!" Jim growled. "How am I supposed to leave to tell Starfleet about this if you––"

"A pity you ignored my advice," Khan sighed. "I am sure the doctor is disappointed...But do not worry, captain: I will not harm any ship sent to retrieve you. That would defeat the purpose of letting you live. Remember: a quarter of my crew in three weeks, or eight bombs will go off...in addition to the two I will detonate momentarily."

Jim somehow got redder.

"Look, I'll find a way! Just don't––"

The killer let go of Leonard's hair; tapped something into the control panel. "See you in three weeks, Kirk."

"Khan, wait! KHA––"

The screen cut to black.

...The panel was still beeping.

"And let's just disconnect that," Khan muttered; typed again.

The panel went silent.

"There: nothing left to trace," the killer tousled his captive's hair. "Let's get you back to bed."

...Had...had that been it? Did Khan just...did he just destroy the Enterprise?

...He wasn't sure. He had no way to know…

Leonard stared open–mouthed at the blank screen; shook.

White lights enveloped his vision; began to fade; he found himself back in the medbay.

Khan guided him to the biobed.

"Sit down," the terrorist released him. "I want to mend your arm before I leave."

The doctor turned to his captor; half dazed from pain and shock. "Leave?"

Khan sighed. "I need to fulfill my threats, doctor...I assume you would like some Numanol. What else do you need?"

His captor reached out a hand.

The doctor recoiled; fell backwards onto the biobed; winced as he jostled his broken arm.

Khan's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing? Do you want to make that worse?"

The killer reached out again; Leonard shrank away.

"Stay away from me!"

"Doctor, you need to calm down," Khan warned. "I cannot help you tend to your injuries if you are going to––"

"I don't want your help, you sick sonofabitch!" Leonard snapped. "I'll do it myself!"

The Augment rolled his eyes. "You have a broken arm, doctor. How do you expect to fix that with one hand?"

The doctor grimaced. His radius and ulna were all kinds of displaced. He wasn't even sure he didn't need surgery to set them properly…

"With an emergency splint, a roll of bandages, and my goddamn teeth if I have to. Just back off!"

"You are being ridiculous," Khan snatched the chain from the floor; grabbed Leonard's left ankle. "But if you insist, I still must––"

"No!"

Leonard's right foot slammed into Khan's jaw.

The killer stepped back, whether from the force of the blow or pure surprise, the doctor had no clue.

Khan touched a hand to his mouth; it came back with a smudge of blood. He tilted his head; turned to Leonard. His lip twitched into a sneer.

Bad idea. Very, _very_ bad idea!

"I–I'm sorry! It was a refl––"

The backhand connected with the doctor's right cheekbone; sent him flat on his back with sparks in his eyes.

Leonard groaned; tried to curl in on himself.

A hand wrapped around his throat.

Dear god, not again!

"A reflex?" Khan hissed. "That was no reflex, doctor. You have been here far too long for that."

"I'm sorr––"

The hand squeezed; cut off his air.

He couldn't breathe! He couldn't––

"No, you are not sorry...but you will be."

The pressure on his throat went away as the killer released him; rose.

The doctor gasped for air; tried to calm down. Panicking was just making things worse...

Khan grabbed Leonard's right ankle; yanked his leg straight.

The doctor looked up in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"You do not want to wear your leash?" Khan was far too calm. "Then you do not have to. You have known my alternative solution since you arrived here."

Leonard's throat went dry.

He remembered that threat.

"No..." He whispered. "Please...You can put the chain on: I won't kick––"

"That's right, doctor. You won't. Because if you kick me again, I will break them both."

The doctor went limp; closed his eyes; tried to breathe.

...He could fix it. He had a bone knitter, and enough Numanol to last a starship ten years. He could––

A fist came down hard on the center of his right shin.

Leonard screamed.


	42. Chapter 42

He should never have let Jim board that shuttle.

In hindsight, it was obvious to Spock that Jim would try something like this. The captain had been behaving far too emotionally since watching that video, and from the sounds that came across the comm system a few moments before––

"Mister Spock," Chekov called over from his station. "Ze shuttle Captain Kirk used to reach Xedna Eight just stopped transmitting its location...It is gone."

Spock took a deep breath in; checked his own monitor.

They were too far away for their sensors to pick up Jim's lifesigns...and if his main route of escape had been destroyed...

"Thank you, Mister Chekov...Lieutenant Uhura: please try to hail the Captain again."

Nyota nodded; turned grim–faced back to her control panel.

"Enterprise to Captain Kirk."

Still, nothing.

"Captain...please respond."

No one was looking at him...so Spock closed his eyes.

...He could not lose another friend. Not now. Not to the same man that had taken so much from them already; had nearly killed Jim once be––

"Kirk here," The captain's shaky voice finally came over the comm.

Spock tried not to sigh in relief. "Captain, are you alright?"

"I'm...okay," Jim's tone belied that comment. "Khan didn't take the deal...Tell Hendorff his prototype for the electromagnetic damping field had a big flaw: if you turn it off to beam away, even for a second, someone can beam something in at the same time. Not quite sure what we can do to fix that..."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I will let him know. How would you like us to proceed?"

"Well, I'd like to get off this rock...Whatever you do, just be careful. Khan said he wouldn't harm anybody who came to pick me up...but at the moment I'd try _swimming_ back to the ship before I'd trust that asshole's word."

Spock nodded. "We will proceed with utmost caution, Captain."

"Thanks, Spock. Keep me posted...Kirk out."

After a moment's contemplation, Spock pressed the internal comm button.

"Spock to Lieutenant Hendorff."

The security officer responded immediately.

"Hendorff here. What do you need, commander?"

"You did make two prototypes for electromagnetic damping field, correct?"

"Yes, sir...did something happen to the first one?"

"Unfortunately, yes...and the captain is currently stranded on Xedna Eight as a result."

"Damnit! Oh...sorry, sir. What do you need me to do?"

"Bring the second prototype to the shuttle bay," Spock ordered. "I believe that the issue Captain Kirk ran into can be avoided if we physically dock a shuttle on Xedna Eight."

"Yes, sir. I'll bring it down right away."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Spock out."

The first officer turned off the comm; scanned the bridge; made his decision.

"Mister Sulu...you have the conn for the next two and a half hours."

Sulu frowned back at him. "Sir, shouldn't I––"

"Negative," Spock shook his head slightly. "There are...a few things I need to discuss with the captain. The shuttle ride will give me the opportunity to do so without wasting time that could be better used to prevent Khan's next detonation."

Sulu nodded. "I understand, sir. I'll take care of the ship."

"Thank you, Mister Sulu."

Spock rose; saw Uhura giving him a concerned look; gave her a reassuring nod; left the bridge.

The prototype was installed by the time he made it to the shuttle bay; he gave Hendorff his thanks; headed for the planet.

Jim met him in the Xedna Eight's docking bay. At first glance, the captain looked far paler than Spock would have liked...but he appeared uninjured.

Spock opened the shuttle's door; Jim stepped inside.

"Thanks, Spock. Let's get the hell out of here."

The captain sat woodenly in the co–pilot's seat; stared straight ahead.

"...Captain, are you––"

"Please tell me Uhura got something from the beacon."

Spock closed the shuttle door; shook his head.

"Khan was too thorough. The beacon shut down completely moments after you ended your transmission...By that time, Lieutenant Uhura had broken through fourteen firewalls...but she believes there could have been dozens more. Khan could be anywhere in the quadrant."

"So we got nothing," Jim muttered. "All of this...was for nothing."

Spock guided the shuttle out of the docking bay. It would take about an hour for them to reach the Enterprise...which would give them time for an...uncomfortable...but necessary conversation.

"...Captain," Spock began. "I know this has been a...trying...time for you...but putting yourself in danger––"

"Save the speech, Spock," Jim sighed. "I know I screwed up. I just...I couldn't just stand there and watch what Khan was doing to him. I had to try something."

A tapping sound made the first officer glance over at his captain. Jim's right heel was bouncing up and down with nervous energy; his color still had not returned.

...Now was not the time to cite regulations.

"...Would you like to discuss what happened?"

Jim shuddered; ran a hand through his hair.

"He...he broke B...Leonard's arm." The captain let out a dry, nearly hysterical laugh. "He just...snapped it in half like a...a stalk of wheat...Just because he could…Just because we didn't bring him what he wanted."

Spock felt rage rising to the surface; attempted to tamp it down. The entire bridge had heard Leonard's scream; had suspected the doctor had received a traumatic injury…

But his arm? What was Khan thinking? Leonard was a doctor. A broken arm could cause irreparable nerve damage; destabilize his hand; make him far less...useful...as a hostage...

"Khan has often professed his perceived superiority over non–Augmented humans," Spock said logically. "To Khan, Doctor McCoy is a tool he can use to compromise your emotional state––"

"I don't need an explanation, Spock!" Jim snapped. "I know he did it to screw with me; that he barely sees Leonard as a person! I've lost friends because of this eugenics bullshit before!"

Spock's eyebrow raised; Jim cringed.

"...Sorry, Spock. It's not your fault that...I'm sorry."

"It is alright, Jim. I understand how difficult it was for you when Admiral Pike––"

"I didn't mean Pike," Jim interrupted. "...Although I guess he counts for that too, doesn't he? Just more collateral damage that Khan didn't care about...but that's not what I meant...and I'm not talking about Vulcan...though that counts too, doesn't it? People killed just because they were...god, why does this keep happening?"

Spock's mouth twitched into a microscopic frown. He was unsure how to respond. There was nothing in Jim's personnel records to indicate that he had experienced any kind of eugenics–related incident before joining Starfleet; nothing to indicate…

"Captain...If you are not referring to Vulcan...or our previous encounter with Khan...then I do not under––"

"'Course you don't." The captain grimaced; closed his eyes; sighed. "It's not something I've...Spock...my reluctance to believe in no–win scenarios doesn't come from being a cocky idealist. It comes from seeing what happens when people give up too early. It comes...from watching four thousand people die needlessly...when salvation was only days away."

Spock's eyebrows went into his bangs.

He only knew of one event in their lifetime with that particular body count; where one man's personal version of eugenics had prevailed over basic decency; where help arrived mere days after…

The second largest massacre of their generation.

The first officer set the controls to autopilot; turned to his friend.

He could not keep his concern from showing through.

"...Jim...were you on Tarsus IV?"

Jim sucked in a deep breath; let it out with a shudder; sucked in another.

"I'm...one of the Tarsus Nine, Spock."

...Oh.

That explained why it was not in his records. The identities of the nine surviving eyewitnesses to the massacre were kept out of all official records for their protection.

"But Jim...I thought you grew up on Earth. How––"

"My stepdad sent me to a boarding school there after I drove a car off a cliff," Jim shrugged. "He convinced my mom it was the only thing that'd make me stop being so rebellious...didn't work out quite like he planned. I spent a year and a half on that colony, making friends, and driving my teachers crazy...and then that fungus wiped out the food supply."

Spock opened his mouth to respond, but Jim did not stop.

"Kodos started making speeches right after that; said he had a plan to make sure the colony didn't starve. He was vague on the details, but people felt betrayed...so in the end, enough people rallied behind him to overthrow the government...By the time people realized what his plan was...it was too late."

Another dry laugh came from the captain's throat.

"They came in the middle of the school day, so there'd be fewer scenes of kids being ripped out of their parent's arms. So there'd be less panic. The guards showed up in the middle of our Vulcan culture class. They called out the names of students they claimed had been selected to hear Kodos give a speech about their new government. We found out later that they'd gone to the principal's office first; gone through our transcripts; that they'd identified the half of the class with the lowest overall grades...five of my friends' names were called."

"Surely your teacher objected to––"

"Oh, he did...up until one of the guards whispered something in his ear, and he went pale...I think they told him what was happening...but he had a son a few grades below us...and I think they threatened to take him too. So our teacher stepped aside, and the guards took half our class away.

"After they left, the room was in chaos. Nervous, hungry kids trying to figure out where their friends were going; a near–katatonic teacher...nobody noticed me, slipping out the door with my friends Kevin and Thomas.

"We followed our classmates from a distance; kept out of sight; managed to slip inside the power plant they were brought to and up onto a catwalk without being caught. We thought if we could tell people what was happening, that they'd try to stop it; that they'd care...We didn't know that it was a one–shot massacre. That the whole point of bringing everybody to the power plant was so Kodos could usher four thousand people inside a single antimatter chamber."

Jim's vision was slightly unfocused...

"I'll never forget it. Not as long as I...I could see my friend, Lily, walking around in that large room in front of the chamber. She was one of the nicest people I'd ever met. She shouldn't have...none of them should have…"

"Jim, you don't have to––"

"Everyone was so calm...like they actually believed it was just a speech to tell them how this new government would work...And then Kodos came out on a ledge about twenty feet away from us; nodded to the guards. A forcefield came up on all sides of the room; started closing in; forcing the thousands gathered there into the antimatter chamber with no way to escape. Kevin and Thomas saw their parents being ushered in; screamed...but so many people were shouting already, their voices were drowned out. When all four thousand were inside, the door to the antimatter chamber slammed shut, and that psychopath gave his famous speech."

...Spock had studied that speech at the Academy. It was used in an ethics class: an example of the dangers of applying pure, detached logic to real–life situations...It was one of the events that had led to a thorough examination of his own use of logic in his decision–making.

"Jim, I––"

"People were panicking." Jim was shaking. "We could hear screams from the chamber; people pounding on the door, begging to be let out...And the three of us...we just froze. We...I didn't know what to do. There were too many guards; too many guns. We were just kids! We couldn't have stopped…"

His friend's voice cracked; Jim took a few calming breaths.

"Then Kodos flipped a switch...and they all went quiet…"

Spock let himself cringe.

"And then Kevin screamed again," Jim continued. "The guards found us pretty fast after that; brought us down to Kodos. Thomas broke away; ran at the monster that had murdered his parents. One of the guards hit him in the face with a phaser rifle...As far as I know, he never got his sight back in his left eye...Kevin was crying. Thomas was bleeding...And I was staring that murderer down like I didn't care if I lived or died...and in all honesty, I don't think I did.

"One of the guards recognized us; told Kodos that we were at the top of our class; that we were 'useful...' I'll never forget that word: 'useful.' What the hell did that even mean? How were we more 'useful' than the people in that chamber? Why did he think we 'deserved' to live more? Because we had better grades? Was that really the only thing that kept us safe?"

...Those were not questions his friend intended for him to answer. They both knew...

"But that guard...saved us. When Kodos heard how 'useful' we were, he smiled; said that everything he had done...all of it had been so people 'like us' could survive...and then he had the guard take us back to school, like nothing'd happened. Like there was anyone for Kevin or Thomas to go back to…"

Spock knew the rest of this story. A shipment of food had arrived far ahead of schedule a few days after the massacre; saved the remaining four thousand inhabitants...who then proceeded to take revenge on Kodos and his followers for the deaths of their loved ones.

By the time a Federation presence was completely in control of the colony again, a charred body identified as the butcher was found on his estate, and nearly all of Kodos' soldiers had been killed. The handful that survived gave testimony claiming that they had been forced to follow orders, or their families would have been placed in the chamber as well…

"I'm so sorry, Jim."

"...It just keeps happening," Jim whispered. "Some psychopath gets it in his head that being smarter, or stronger, or healthier, than another person means that they're better; that they deserve to live more; that they can do whatever they want to people that are 'beneath' them…and a lot of innocent people pay the price."

Spock rested a hand on his friend's shoulder; tried to send a wave of calm through the touch. Jim leaned into it a little; drew another deep breath in; out.

"...Thanks, Spock...I kind of got carried away, didn't I?"

"Not at all," Spock said honestly. "It is...difficult...to discuss such matters...but I believe it was necessary. I now view your decisions on Xedna Eight from a...different perspective than I had moments ago."

The captain closed his eyes; shook his head.

"...What are we going to do, Spock? I don't...I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how...how do you stop someone who doesn't care if innocent people get hurt? Who tortures people to make a point? Who..."

As his friend trailed off, Spock felt the urge to offer a suggestion he had been...reluctant...to propose before this incident.

"Jim...perhaps it would be wise for you to make an appointment with Doctor M'Benga. I have...utilized his services twice in the past week, and I can attest to his skill as counselor."

Jim snorted. "...Haven't tried that since right after...But I guess it's worth a shot...especially if I don't want to get 121'd. Not about to lose the Enterprise because I can't keep myself together."

Spock nodded. "That was...part of my reasoning as well."

"Good," Jim cracked a small smile. "Wouldn't want to lose you, Spock...now let's get back to the ship. I was powerless to stop Kodos fifteen years ago; I'll be damned if I can't help stop Khan now."


	43. Chapter 43

He was taking too long.

Khan stood atop a building in the heart of Paris; looked out at the cityscape.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was still coming up; painting the slightly cloudy sky with reds, violets, and pinks. When he looked down, Khan could see people in a small park walking their dogs; feeding pigeons; participating in a variety of other tasks average people embedded into their average morning routine before departing for work.

The terrorist frowned. Perhaps he could wait until the following night: when fewer people would be on the streets; the casualty rate could be suppressed…

...No.

They would not take him seriously if he appeared to be minimizing casualties. This was one of the busiest hours of the day for his intended target...

...It had to be done...and it had to be done now.

Khan pulled a PADD out of his coat; tapped out the detonation code.

The ground shook as a fireball blossomed a few blocks away; even from a distance, the sound was horrendously loud.

The people in the park below looked up. Some froze in terror. Some screamed; sprinted away, clutching their pets; their children.

...And a small handful of people ran towards the blast.

He admired their ability to fight their primal fear; to attempt to save strangers at risk to their own lives.

...Strangers he had intentionally sacrificed in the hope that his family could soon be free.

The terrorist put the PADD away; pulled out his personal transporter; beamed away as sirens began to blare, and dark smoke billowed across the Paris skyline.

When the white lights of the transporter receded, he was back in his quarters on the Botany Bay.

The killer put the transporter on the small desk in his room; shrugged his coat off his shoulders; draped it over his chair.

Khan sat on the edge of his bed; took a deep breath in; out.

...It was done.

Starfleet would not be able to hide this incident as it could attacks that happened on faraway outposts. This time, there would be news coverage; inquiries into who was responsible; calls for action to prevent further atrocities.

...All of which would be useless, if the Federation did not release his people.

In that case, a vicious cycle would begin. One in which many more people would die needlessly over a war they had no part in; a war many of them would object to.

The killer huffed. Was that not typically the case? Civilians always suffered for the actions of their leaders.

...But in his first war, hundreds of years before, he had managed to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. To attack them had always seemed like the fastest way to make needless enemies.

Maybe that was why this attack had left such a bitter taste in his mouth: he had no idea how many enemies he had just made, and those new enemies had done nothing to deserve that status. Even _McCoy_ had given him far greater cause for...

McCoy.

With a curse, Khan rose; left his quarters; headed for the medbay.

McCoy's broken bones still needed mending, and the killer had not left the man in a position to treat himself.

Breaking McCoy's arm had been a calculated risk; one that Khan had planned to mitigate by immediately fixing the injuries...perhaps he should have...

Khan growled; continued down the corridors.

He would not feel remorse over breaking the doctor's leg. McCoy was a prisoner; from time to time, he needed to be reminded of his place. It was the doctor's violent resistance to treatment that had forced Khan's hand yet again.

He doubted his captive had attempted to move in the past few hours: a broken leg would easily thwart any possible thoughts of escape.

The killer grimaced; shook his head; kept moving.

...Nitika might have felt pity for McCoy...but Khan was not Nitika. He did not have the luxury of seeing the world through her pacifistic eyes; he could not afford her compassion...even if the doctor's screams refused to leave his mind.

Khan finally reached the medbay door; opened it; scanned for his captive...and immediately tilted his head in surprise.

...He had to admit, it was a bit impressive.

McCoy had actually managed to leave his biobed and drag himself over to the shelves...all with one good arm, and a broken leg. The amount of pain he must have endured to make it to the shelves would have been astounding.

...The killer wondered how long had it taken McCoy to realize Khan had moved the Numanol, dermal regenerator, and bone knitter to the top shelf. He could only imagine what the doctor's reaction must have been to that discovery...

There was an emergency splint and roll of bandages lying, abandoned, on the ground next to the doctor. Apparently setting and wrapping his own arm without painkillers had proven too agonizing a task to complete; instead, McCoy's broken arm rested...if not comfortably, at least securely...in a sling made from his blue outershirt.

The doctor tensed; turned his head towards his captor. McCoy's right eye was swollen shut, but his left stared up with a silent plea for...mercy.

...Khan could not suppress the wave of guilt that look sent through him.

He had been too harsh.

Yes, the doctor's agony had had its intended effect on Kirk...but McCoy had shown a conscious effort to comply with Khan's requests for days before the incident; undoubtedly with the belief that his captor would not harm him if he behaved.

Khan had broken that...trust...by giving McCoy a broken arm that he had not earned; the doctor's rebellious outburst had been an...understandable...reaction to the unprovoked trauma. A part of Khan had known this...but still, he had lost his temper; broken McCoy's leg...and undoubtedly turned their barely lukewarm relationship frigid once again.

The only way to mend that rift would be time...and far more self–control on his part.

...But for now, he could at least tend to the physical damage.

"You should have stayed in bed, doctor," Khan shook his head. "You might have made things worse."

Khan crossed; crouched to his captive's eye level.

McCoy curled his uninjured leg close to his chest; stopped before it could bump against his wrapped arm...but did not attempt to retreat. A decision that was definitely for the best.

There were lines of half–dried tears cutting through the sheen of sweat on McCoy's face; his breath shuddered.

Khan gave the man a concerned look.

"Are you ready to let me help you?"

McCoy swallowed; closed his good eye; he gave a faint nod.

"...Please."

The killer rose; grabbed a hypo of Numanol from the top of the bookshelf above McCoy; a pair of scissors from the middle of the shelf.

Hopefully, he could keep the man conscious throughout his treatment. Khan's experience with modern medicine was still relatively limited, and he preferred to utilize McCoy's expertise as much as possible.

The killer dropped back down to his captive's level; the doctor's eyes were still closed.

Khan paused. McCoy had been in a great deal of pain for quite some time; long enough for any adrenaline to have worn off...perhaps a test of his coherency was in order.

He toyed with the hypo. "I will numb the pain before I attempt to move you, doctor. One CC of Numanol at the source of each injury, correct?"

McCoy's good eye opened; his eyebrows shot up in alarm.

"Three. Always at least three for breaks...or it might not last long enough for the bone knitter. And the top of the hand's close enough. Ya don't have ta undo the whole sling: just pull back the cloth 'round the hand...It's _three_ CC's. Please."

...That seemed coherent enough.

Khan gently moved the cloth around McCoy's swollen hand; frowned when he noticed an indented strip of skin around the doctor's left pinky finger.

"Where is your ring?"

"Here." McCoy winced; held up his right hand. The familiar band glinted on the doctor's right pinky. "Had ta switch 'fore it got stuck."

"I see…then I assume you will also be needing anti–inflammatory medication as well?"

"...That'd be great."

Khan nodded; checked that the hypo of Numanol was set to three CC's; pressed the it into the doctor's hand; felt him flinch.

"...Thanks."

"How many CC's of the anti–inflammatory?"

McCoy grimaced. "It's...pretty bad. Go with four."

Khan grabbed a hypo of anti–inflammatory medicine; treated the doctor's hand. He tucked the hand back into the sling; moved to the man's right leg, readied the scissors.

"Wait."

The killer paused; looked up. "What is it?"

McCoy grimaced. "I haven't...I just need a sec..."

"It needs to be done," Khan urged. "The longer it goes without treatment––"

"Why do ya think I dragged myself 'cross the freakin' floor?!" McCoy snapped; cringed. "I'm sorry..."

Khan exhaled. "It is fine, doctor. You are still in a great deal of pain. Are you ready now?"

His captive took a deep breath; nodded.

The killer cut McCoy's left pant leg up to the knee; revealed a swollen and bruised limb.

The doctor glanced down; quietly whimpered.

"Focus, doctor: how much Numanol, and how much of the anti–inflammatory?"

McCoy closed his good eye; rested his head against the bookshelf.

"...The same. For now. I can't tell how displaced the bone is like this...might need more later on."

Khan treated the doctor's leg; the swelling immediately began to subside.

"Works fast," McCoy muttered; relaxed slightly. "...All this crap works fast."

The killer was not certain what point the doctor was attempting to make...Perhaps McCoy was slightly delirious after all…

He put the hypos on a shelf; rested a hand on his captive's right shoulder.

"Let's get you to your biobed."

McCoy nodded his consent; Khan hooked an arm under the man's knees; another behind his back; lifted.

The doctor tensed; groaned; his right hand latched on to Khan's shoulder in a death grip.

The killer paused. "What is wrong?"

McCoy took a deep breath in; out through his nose; his hand unclenched.

"...Too fast. Got queasy for a sec."

...That could have been...unpleasant.

"My apologies...I will be more careful."

The killer carried his captive back to the middle biobed at a deliberate pace he hoped would prevent further discomfort.

"...How many this time?" McCoy mumbled.

Khan suppressed a grimace. He honestly did not know how many people his bomb had killed...

"I was not in a position to count. More than one, to be certain. It was in a very public area."

The hand gripping his shoulder tightened again.

"...Jim?"

"Alive," Khan reached the biobed; gently set McCoy down, took care not to jostle his injured limbs any more than necessary. "I told Kirk I wanted him to relay my new demands to Starfleet. He cannot do that if he is dead."

Khan was certain Kirk would comply with his demand...once the Enterprise made it back within communication range. With the Xedna Eight subspace beacon shut down, it would take longer for them to be able to contact Starfleet Command. He could reactivate the beacon any time to check for cryotubes on Xedna Eight, however allowing it to stay dormant for a few days would hinder any efforts by the Federation to track the source of his communications signal.

The terrorist noted the relief that spread across McCoy's face at the news of Kirk's safety; turned to collect the tricorder, bone knitter and dermal regenerator from the top of the bookshelf.

By the time he returned, the doctor's face had once again furrowed with worry.

"What is wrong?"

"...You said you put a...bomb...onboard the…" McCoy swallowed; sucked in a breath. "Tell me ya didn't set it off."

The terrorist raised an eyebrow. The fate of a single shuttle was hardly reason to look so worried...unless the doctor somehow thought Kirk would be unable to communicate with the Enterprise to ask for extraction without it.

"I did," Khan set the tools down; gave the doctor a reassuring smile. "But Kirk is going to be fine. Now, shall I begin with your leg, or will that inspire you to kick me again?"

McCoy stared at him for a moment...and tears began to fall from the doctor's eyes.

The killer frowned. "That was meant as a joke. Not a threat."

McCoy's right hand clenched until the knuckles turned white; he let out a sob.

Khan sighed. "I will admit it was in poor taste...but I promise, I am hear to help, not cause you further pain."

He rested a comforting hand on McCoy's shoulder. The doctor flinched.

"You realize that Numanol will wear off eventually. If you want your bones set and mended before that happens, then I suggest you collect yourself so we can get to work."

...More. Crying.

Khan rolled his eyes.

He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

The killer grabbed McCoy by the chin; forced his captive's gaze.

"Listen to me: you are no good to anyone like this. I need a physician who can walk, and use both of their hands. Unless you would like me to seek out your replacement, you will stop blubbering, and help yourself."

That, finally, appeared to do the trick.

McCoy glared; shuddered; drew a few shaky...almost seething...breaths.

"Tricorder."

Khan picked up the tricorder; popped out the scanner; handed the readout portion to McCoy.

"Arm."

The killer passed the scanner over the sling.

"Severe displacement," the doctor muttered. "But not compounded...lucky me…Now the leg."

Khan ran the scanner over McCoy's leg.

"...Tibia broke in pretty much the same place as when I fell...but ya managed ta put a crack in my fibula this time too."

"What do you need me to do?"

"'Sides takin' me ta a real hospital?" The doctor grimaced. "You can start by helpin' me realign the bones in my arm. I hate havin' an amateur do it...but you're all I've got, aren't ya?"

"Until my own doctor is returned to me, yes."

"...So you're all I've got."

...Khan elected to ignore that comment.

"How do I realign the bones?"

McCoy set the tricorder aside; tugged at the knot that secured his sling. "Gotta take this thing off first."

"I can––"

"I got it," the doctor growled. "I put the damn thing on; I can take it off."

The killer tilted his head; frowned.

Why was McCoy suddenly so spiteful? Was it truly just a reaction to his injuries?

...Perhaps...

"Doctor, I know how you feel about collateral damage, but I had to detonate those bombs," Khan insisted. "Do you think the Federation will ever voluntarily release my family? If I must force their hand instead, I will. My people have done nothing to yours; they do not deserve perpetual imprisonment."

The doctor gave up on the knot; stared at his captor.

"How the hell can you say that to me with a straight face?"

...He understood McCoy's point...however this was not the time for that debate.

"Do you want to argue until your medication wears off, or do you want my help?"

"I _want_ ya ta drop dead, but if ya did, even more bombs'd detonate, wouldn't they?"

Khan shot his captive a warning look. "One more snide remark, doctor, and I will leave. Do not test me."

McCoy opened his mouth; paused; closed it...and stared at the ceiling.

"...Untie the knot. Please."

The killer smirked; did as his captive asked.

"Great...Now wait a sec. I've got this part."

The doctor slowly unwrapped the sling; revealed his bent and bruised broken arm...

Khan tried to pull the now useless sling away, but McCoy shook his head; clenched the bunched up shirt in his right hand.

"I'm gonna hold onto this...just in case I'm not as numb as I think I am."

The killer shrugged. "I have no objections. What comes next?"

"...Gonna try a closed reduction. Basically, ya realign the bones using traction––pushing and pulling the half of the fracture that's connected to my wrist until the bones are back where they should be."

"Seems simple enough."

"If ya know what you're doing," the doctor muttered. "Just don't pull too hard. With my luck, you'll accidentally rip my arm off."

...That was not something he had considered...but he supposed it was a legitimate concern.

"I will be careful," Khan assured his captive. "Are you ready?"

McCoy closed his good eye; nodded.

"Do it."

It took a bit of time to guide the bones back into their proper positions, but Khan managed.

"Now what?"

"...Tricorder again," McCoy let go of the outershirt; picked up the tricorder readout. "Make sure we didn't just make it worse."

The killer scanned the doctor's arm; McCoy sighed.

"Looks good as it's gonna get...Grab an emergency splint and some bandages ta keep that in place…Then do the same thing with the leg."

Khan did as the doctor requested. Once the injuries were properly stabilized, he held up the bone knitter.

"Ready?"

"...Yep."

The killer worked in silence; his captive's bones slowly fused back together.

Every now and then he noticed the doctor glaring at him. Apparently the man had decided that if he could not openly insult his captor, he would try a more passive–aggressive approach.

It was...somehow even more annoying.

When the breaks were mended, Khan set down the bone knitter; held up the dermal regenerator.

"Would you like me to fix the soft tissue damage, or would you like to do that yourself?"

McCoy's left fingers began to twitch; his right hand gestured for Khan to continue working.

The killer shook his head; started on the arm.

"I understand your anger, doctor. You tried so hard to be good, and right now it must feel like it was for nothing."

...Silence.

"I do apologize for the arm...but the leg was your own fault: you should not have fought me. After forty days, you must have had some idea of how that would end."

...The silence was becoming irritating. There were accusations in that silence.

After a few minutes, Khan switched the dermal regenerator from McCoy's arm to his leg.

"Really though, none of this is your fault...or mine. If your friend, Jim, had produced even one member of my crew, then I could have brought you back here completely unharmed...and those bombs would never have gone off."

McCoy's fingers once again tightened around the empty sling...but still, he said nothing.

Khan scowled; deactivated the dermal regenerator. McCoy was not completely healed, however he would likely be able to walk...at least, with a heavy limp.

"That will have to do for the moment." The killer set the dermal regenerator aside. "I have work to do elsewhere. Sit up."

McCoy stiffly complied. The doctor flexed his left hand; slowly touched the tips of his fingers to his thumb. The exercise appeared to produce positive results: the man repeated it a number of times; each faster than the last.

"It appears I saved your dexterity," Khan smiled. "That, at least, deserves a 'thank you,' does it not?"

McCoy tensed...but did not speak.

The killer's smile faded. "Say 'thank you,' doctor."

His captive sighed; shook his head.

"I'm tired, Khan. You woke me up in the middle of the night just ta torture me in front of my best friend…Please, just let me get some sleep."

...What?

"Doctor," Khan made sure the warning in his voice was clear. "I just spent an hour mending your injuries. The polite thing to do would be to thank me."

McCoy grimaced; glared.

"Why should I thank you for fixin' what you broke?"

Khan blinked.

That was...unacceptable.

McCoy didn't have time to flinch before the killer's hand was around his throat; the other tangled in the doctor's hair.

"I've trained you better than this," Khan hissed. "Now, you are going to say 'thank you,' or I will undo our hour's work. Do you understand me?"

He heard the doctor's breath catch.

"Please, don't––"

"Do you understand?"

"'Course I––"

"Then say it!"

"Th–Thank you!" McCoy shouted. "Thank you, alright? Just...Thank you."

...Better. Barely...but better.

Khan released McCoy's neck; smiled; tousled his hair.

"Good boy. Now, are you ready for your leash?"

His captive's jaw clenched...but he nodded.

Khan turned to search for the end of the chain; tilted his head with a frown.

...Odd.

The killer reached down; picked up the...closed shackle...lying right next to the biobed. He could have sworn that he had left it open; it was the reason he had not bothered to bring the PADD with him.

He would have to restrain the doctor some other way while he retrieved it...or perhaps this would be a good time to test if fear alone could make McCoy stay put. It was not like the man could go far...

"Everythin' alright?" He heard McCoy shift uncomfortably behind him.

"Everything is fine," Khan said. "Stay in bed, and rest. I will bring you something to eat when I––"

Something sharp pricked his side.

Khan stiffened; turned back to his captive.

There was...a hypo...in McCoy's right hand.

His stunned mind took a few precious milliseconds too long to process what that meant.

"NO!"

He lashed out...but McCoy had already launched himself over the far side of the biobed.

Khan's suddenly sluggish hand grasped air where the man's neck had been a moment before; he pitched forward; fell.

He tried to rise; to fight...but all the strength left his body; the anesthesia tugged at his eyelids.

As Khan's consciousness ebbed away, he saw the doctor stagger to his feet. There was a tremor in McCoy's hands; his left in particular was quite unsteady; he put as much weight as possible on the biobed behind him, as well as his...

...Chainless...left leg.

"I've told ya a thousand times, Khan…"

...How could he have been so negligent? How could...

McCoy gave the hypo a triumphant flip; a small sneer twitched across his bruised face.

"I'm not your goddamn pet."


	44. Chapter 44

This was, by far, the most harebrained stunt Leonard had ever pulled.

He'd been sure Khan would find that hypo in his sling; sure that his desperate attempt to escape would, at best, just get him more broken bones.

But it had worked.

It had worked!

...Right?

Eyes locked on the seemingly unconscious form a few feet away, Leonard carefully eased himself around Nitika's biobed; back to the shelves; scrounged up a medical tricorder.

No need to get too close: wasn't like he needed to poke Khan with a stick or anything.

...And a medical tricorder could pick up a few basic vitals from twenty feet away.

The doctor scanned the killer from a distance; read the results.

About twelve breaths per minute...

Heart rate: 42 bpm.

Brainwave patterns indicative of...

...Yep.

Leonard grinned.

Khan was out.

That psychopath was really out!

...But for how long?

The doctor looked at the hypo still clutched in his right hand; frowned.

Khan had taken longer to pass out than he'd expected. The last time he'd put the bastard under, it had only taken a second for the anesthesia to work...but this time...

Maybe the blood loss had played a bigger factor than the drug itself.

Leonard reworked the mental math.

Using the changes he'd seen in Jim's metabolism after...the radiation incident...to set a sketchy basal metabolic rate for an Augment; accounting for Khan's apparent tolerance to the strongest anesthesia Leonard had on hand…

He had three hours. Four, tops.

Then, if he hadn't administered another dose...

The doctor cringed.

Leonard just wished there was a way to tie Khan up. The terrorist could rip through bandages like tissue paper, and the doctor had intentionally locked the only thing that could've possibly held the psycho down...

He'd had no choice. If Khan had put the shackle back on him _before_ treating the broken arm and leg, the plan would've been over before it began.

Leonard set the hypo on Nitika's biobed. He couldn't even risk dosing Khan again until his estimated wake up time. The hypo'd already been set to the maximum safety limits; any more could be lethal...and if Khan died, the locations of his bombs would go with him.

He needed to keep the killer out and stable long enough for help to arrive.

…But to do that, help actually needed to...well...arrive.

Leonard checked the time on the tricorder readout; clipped it to his pants; limped out of the medbay as fast as he could. He stayed near the walls; used them to help keep his balance.

If he could just get to the bridge; send out a distress signal...Starfleet would come. They'd rescue him, and seal Khan up behind so many security measures the terrorist'd be lucky to ever see starlight again.

Khan had to pay. If there was an ounce of justice in the entire godforsaken universe, that murdering bastard would get what was coming to him.

It took way longer than Leonard would've liked to reach the bridge, but once he got there he made a beeline for the communications panel; searched the display. Khan had upgraded the ship's limited communications technology with Starfleet tech, so if the doctor remembered his class on Starfleet Emergency systems correctly…

There.

Leonard laughed.

God bless programmers that made things easy to find!

There were _literally_ two buttons labeled "ALL FREQUENCIES: LIVE CHANNEL," and "ALL FREQUENCIES: RECORDED LOOP."

Leonard happily tapped on the live option.

Hopefully somebody had their ears open.

"McCoy to Starfleet! McCoy to Starfleet!"

He paused; waited a few seconds.

...No answer.

The giddiness started to fade.

The doctor tried again.

"McCoy to Starfleet! Can anybody hear me? Please...respond…"

...Nothing.

Leonard took a deep breath; tried not to panic.

It was a daydream to think he'd get an answer right away. There was no telling where he was, which meant there was no telling how long it could take a distress call to reach another ship...let alone one that might actually be willing to help him.

...He'd just have to keep trying.

The recorded loop might work better. He could leave it running while he watched over Khan, and the continuous signal might make it easier for people to pinpoint his location.

"This is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief…"

Leonard stopped; shook his head.

That...that wasn't right anymore...

"Former Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. To any and all ships that can hear this, I am requesting emergency aide."

Somebody had to be listening. Somebody'd send help...

"A little over forty days ago, I was abducted by Khan Noonien Singh, a terrorist who is threatening to set off bombs throughout Federation space. He...he told me that there's a bomb under a playground in Atlanta, Georgia. He's gonna kill children!"

His hands were shaking.

What if Khan woke up early and decided to set off that bomb as punishment? What if…

He had to hurry.

"A few minutes ago, I was finally able ta sedate him," Leonard's hand went to his throat. "Nearly got my neck snapped doin' it...but I've got 'em knocked out in the makeshift medbay he made for me...I'm not sure how long I can keep him that way though. If what he's told me is true, then his bombs are on timers. If he doesn't reset them in 'bout three weeks, then they'll all go off at once...and I can't let that happen. If nobody comes...if nobody rescues me and captures him by then...I'll have ta wake 'em up."

And Khan would kill him. Slowly. He'd scrape out every last bit of agony he could before…

Leonard grimaced; looked out at the window at the far end of the room.

He needed to focus.

"I...I have no idea where I am." Not exactly, anyway. "I know that I'm on the ship that Khan set out from Earth in...the Botany Bay, and that we've landed on a moon that's covered in yellow sand, and we're orbiting a gas giant. There's at least one other moon; it's M–class...and the Federation's apparently studied it before, and decided the magnetic field was too strong ta make it a good colony...and that's all I know."

Hopefully that was enough. Hopefully whoever got the message would be able to track it to its source; pinpoint his location with the extra detail he'd provided.

But if not...

"He's got this beaming tech that lets 'em jump from planet ta planet…" Leonard added. "If somebody can talk me through how ta set in coordinates...I think I can beam us both out of here; maybe even all the way back ta Earth...But I can't risk it without help. I'm a doctor, not a...I have no clue how ta use the thing...and if I screw up…a lot of innocent people will die."

His breath sped up again; Leonard clenched his jaw; closed his eyes.

Don't panic. Just this once, keep those damn emotions in check! If Spock could even come close to keeping it together after what happened to Vulcan, then he could...

...Spock.

Leonard sagged against the console; failed to fight back tears.

Spock was dead.

The Enterprise was...his friends were…

Khan had killed them all.

"Please...someone help me," Leonard begged. "I can't let this monster go! He's killed so many people already, and he's threatened my daughter! She's only twelve years old…"

Dear god! If this didn't work, Khan would go after Joanna! He'd torture and kill and hack into databases until he found wherever Jim had hidden her...and Donna and Fred would try to protect her...and Khan would kill them, and take Joanna anyway…

That couldn't happen.

Leonard pulled himself together as much as he could; stared at the screen.

"Look...I don't care if you're with the Federation, or the Orions, or...hell! If the only people gettin' this message are Klingons, or Romulans, or anybody else that wants ta show up the Federation by capturing the most dangerous terrorist of our time, I'll drink blood wine, or Romulan ale, or generally have a great 'we saved thousands of lives' victory dinner with any of ya. Just as long as you stop those bombs from goin' off…"

Leonard paused.

With Khan captured, the only way to stop the bombs would be to wake him up...and make him explain how to deactivate them.

But Khan wouldn't just give up that information, would he?

There'd been talk of developing a drug awhile back that could painlessly compel someone into honesty...but after Starfleet found out that Section 31 had their mitts all over that project, the 'truth serum' got buried under a couple thousand pages of ethics complaints. Maybe that program could be revived...

But what if that didn't work? What if...

...The Federation did not torture. Didn't matter how monstrous Khan was, they would never…

But what if there was another Admiral Marcus out there? If that...Admiral Alston...Khan had told him about was any indication, there were still people high up in Starfleet willing to do anything to capture or kill Khan and his people. What if they rushed through an experimental version of the drug, or convinced the right people to make an exception to the 'no–torture' laws?

Or what if the Klingons or Romulans really _did_ show up? What if...

...Would that be such a bad...

Leonard's stomach clenched.

Christ, where had that thought come from? Was he really justifying...

He'd been around Khan too long. That psychopath's voice was in his head.

...Truth was, there was only one way this could end without more bloodshed.

A deal.

The Federation would have to strike a deal with Khan: his people's freedom for the bomb locations and deactivation codes. It would be the only option; the only way to keep everybody safe.

Even with Khan captured, he'd get what he really wanted.

...But at least that sadist wouldn't be able to hurt anybody else.

"So…" The doctor cleared his throat. "Once again: I am Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, former CMO of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Kidnapped by Khan Noonien Singh over forty days ago. We're on an old Earth ship called the Botany Bay. He's got bombs on timers all over the place. Get me out of here, and I'll happily play diplomat, or political prisoner, or whatever ya wanna call it, okay? Just...please send help. Anything's better than this. McCoy out."

He stopped the recording; it automatically began to play on a loop.

Leonard let himself smile.

Sooner or later...somebody'd hear him. Somebody would come.

The doctor checked the clock on his tricorder again.

...Thirty five minutes.

It had taken over half an hour to get to the bridge and send his message...which meant he still had at least two and a half hours before Khan might wake up.

...He should explore the ship. He'd have to eventually, anyway. At some point he needed to find out where Khan had put the personal transporter; where the psychopath kept their food supply.

Leonard grimaced.

With Khan knocked out, he might have to set up a nasogastric feeding tube to make sure the man didn't starve. It was an outdated, almost barbaric, way to keep a patient stabilized...but hypos were out. Khan hadn't left any nutrient vials in the medical supplies.

He'd put money on that killer stashing them somewhere else on the ship: it was a simple, but effective way of keeping Leonard dependent on his captor for food, without destroying potentially vital supplies.

But he couldn't count on finding them. They could be anywhere...

At least he wouldn't have to worry about Khan getting dehydrated. There were emergency hydration packs in the medical supply crates; Leonard had already used a couple during Khan's stomach surgery.

Feeding tubes and IVs...

It was stone age medicine, but it would work.

Leonard had to set priorities: he'd have a little under two hours that he could use to explore the ship before heading back to the medbay, and he intended to make it count.

Food.

Transporter.

...And the PADD that controlled his...the...shackle in the medbay.

He'd need to sleep sometime, after all...and if he didn't wake up in time to re–dose Khan…

...He should probably find a phaser too...

Food. Transporter. PADD. Phaser.

It was a plan.

Leonard limped off the bridge; deeper into the ship.

Getting lost was a sure way to end the morning dead, so in the few places where the corridors branched off, he only took right turns; kept careful count of how many he'd taken. The next time through, he could do all the lefts; tackle another deck the time after that; another the time after that; slowly but surely mapping the entire ship.

Most of the doors he found were open, but there was next to nothing inside most of the rooms. He guessed Khan had pitched a bunch of disintegrated supplies in the first few weeks: any clothes, or food, or pretty much anything the Augments might've packed would've been over two hundred fifty years old; worthless to keep around.

Khan probably planned to raid a supply hub at some point: get all the grain and building materials and clothing he'd need to keep his people stocked for a hundred years in one violent swoop. Didn't matter where those supplies were supposed to go...

To his surprise, Leonard quickly found a small room that looked…very lived in.

There was an _actual_ , ' _looked–so–comfortable–he–could–cry_ ' _bed_ in the far left corner of the room, covered in warm–looking blankets and fluffy pillows. It made the doctor wanna stop and take a nap, but he knew what a bad idea that was.

In the far right corner, another door opened to a small room where Leonard could see a sink...and a mirror that looked like it'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

...Apparently Khan really did hate what he saw.

How could anyone in Starfleet have agreed to perform that procedure? Forced cosmetic surgery and memory manipulation violated the essence of what it meant to be a doctor! What doctor in their right mind would spit in the face of their ethical training?

...Was it somebody he knew? Somebody he'd worked with at the Academy?

It was disgusting. No one should have to go through something like that! Not even…

...Oh. Hell. No.

Leonard forced his gaze away from the broken mirror; down to his newly–mended arm.

He refused to feel sorry for that monster. Not after everything Khan had put him through. Not after…

The doctor's vision blurred; he shook his head.

He couldn't think about the Enterprise. Not yet.

He didn't have time for another breakdown.

Leonard blinked away the tears; focused.

There were a couple of storage crates between the bed and the bathroom. Pieces of clothing draped over one with an open lid; the other had a small pile of emergency rations stacked on top of it.

Obviously not their whole food supply, but it was a start.

Wishing that he'd taken the time to heal his swollen right eye before stumbling out of the medbay, Leonard pivoted until he could see the near right corner of the room.

...Khan's long black coat was draped over a chair, right in front of a desk covered in little bits of machinery and...

YES!

The transporter!

The doctor stumbled over to the desk; snatched up the device.

Now he just needed somebody from Starfleet to talk him through the thing, and he'd be Earthbound!

Leonard smiled.

A couple of months back at his mom's old farmhouse...that'd do him a lot of good.

The doctor slipped the transporter into an outer pocket of Khan's coat; rummaged through the others.

Khan apparently liked to weigh down his coat with random crap. The man seemed to follow the old Boy Scout motto, and since everything weighed next to nothing to him anyway, the killer could be as prepared as he wanted...as long as he had ample pocket room.

Leonard quickly and joyfully found a phaser in an inner pocket of the coat; a couple PADDs in another large outer pocket. He was pretty sure one of them controlled the chain...but since they all looked the same on the outside, he decided to figure out which one it was after his excursion was over. No need to waste time right then...

He couldn't identify everything he found: there were a couple fist–sized metallic balls that looked suspiciously like bombs...but could just have easily been parts to some machine Khan was working on. He left those on Khan's desk instead of putting them back in the coat; kept searching.

When Leonard found a small, sheathed knife in the coat's left sleeve, he paused.

...Even in self–defense, he wouldn't ever use it on Khan. Not with bombs ready to go off if the terrorist died...but if he hid the knife in the medbay, and Khan ever captured him again, it would give him the option to…

No.

It wouldn't come to that.

He was going home.

...Still...

Leonard put the knife back into its sheath; tucked it into the waistband of his pants.

He checked the time: over an hour and a half left...

A little more exploring would be okay.

The doctor gobbled down a couple ration pack from the storage crate; stuffed a few more in Khan's coat for later. He swung coat over his left shoulder, and limped out into the hall with the phaser clutched awkwardly in his right hand.

Set to stun, it would slow Khan down instead of killing him; keep the terrorist down long enough for Leonard jab him with another dose of anesthesia.

...But walking around armed still felt weird.

The Botany Bay definitely wasn't wheelchair accessible: the doctor had walked past two flights of stairs so far without any indication of an alternate route. It made sense, since Augments probably didn't look too kindly on people with disabilities, but for someone used to a ship designed to accommodate every member of their crew, the lack of ramps and turbolifts seemed ridiculous.

...Leonard would explore those areas once his leg was in better shape. The Numanol would wear off in a couple hours, and he wasn't about to push his luck.

The doctor turned right again; found himself in a corridor lined with defunct stasis chambers; a single door at the far end.

He went in...and froze.

...Yes.

Yes!

Leonard wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

A cryotube!

A grin spread across the doctor's face.

Forget chaining Khan up: he'd just put the bastard on ice until help arrived! It'd make everything so much easier!

Leonard limped over to the device. Sure, the doctor would have to heal his leg up a little more first, or he woldn't be able to drag Khan this far, but this worked waaaay better than...

...His smile faded.

The cryotube wasn't empty.

...Nitika.

Leonard's brow furrowed in confusion.

Why the hell had Khan put her back in a cryotube? Why hadn't he just buried her? There was no way...

...Had Khan tried to use his blood on her after all? Was she…

The doctor looked at the sensor readings on the side of the cryotube; winced.

...Nitika was still very...very dead.

...Maybe it wasn't a good idea to think of why she was in there...

Leonard set down the phaser; pressed his right hand against the glass; looked in on the patient he'd failed.

If even half of what Khan had told him about her was true, Nitika had been an absolute sweetheart; a living foil to the stereotype that all Augments were inherently aggressive and cruel.

...How differently might things have gone if she'd lived?

Khan had told him repeatedly that Nitika would've liked him. If she'd been around, maybe Leonard wouldn't have spent the last couple weeks bouncing between confused optimism and sheer terror. Maybe she would've convinced Khan that torturing his prisoner was wrong. She might've stopped that bastard from using the water, or breaking his arm...or even persuaded Khan not to murder innocent people.

...Maybe they would've become friends.

...Or maybe Khan would've hidden Leonard's existence from her; kept Nitika ignorant to the price of her freedom...

There was no way to know.

"I'm sorry," Leonard whispered. "I wish...I think it woulda been nice ta meet you."

The doctor stepped away from the cryotube with a sigh; picked up the phaser.

He didn't know what to do. Right now, the cryotube was like a coffin. If he took Nitika out of the cryotube to put Khan in, then he'd have to find a place to put her body. For his own safety, and for the safety of the people Khan was threatening, he knew he had no choice...but god, it didn't feel right.

Leonard checked his tricorder.

...Forty minutes left till Khan might wake up.

The doctor limped out of the room; back into the hallway.

His creepy little internal conflict could wait.

He needed to head to the medbay.

It didn't take nearly as long to retrace his steps as Leonard had feared. No stops, not even to catch his breath. Being cooped up for over a month wasn't doing any wonders for his physical fitness...but he liked to think he was doing well for a man with a terminal illness and recently mended broken limbs.

He could rest for a couple hours once Khan was secure.

Leonard smiled as he reached the medbay; stepped inside.

It'd be a long few days, but––

The doctor froze.

He lost his grip on the coat; it slipped to the floor with a thud.

...The biobed was empty.

Khan was gone.

Oh god! He'd screwed up the calculation! Where––

The attack came from the right, where his swollen eye blocked his vision.

Leonard screamed as Khan slammed him against the doorframe hard enough to knock the tricorder off his side.

The killer wrenched the phaser from the doctor's hand; took a sudden step back.

Leonard cowered; covered his head; prepared for the blows he knew were coming.

He was dead! He was dead! He was…

...Nothing was happening.

Trembling, the doctor peeked out between his arms.

...He'd never seen that look on Khan's face before. Not in those first few terrifying days; not even when he couldn't save Nitika.

Rage–filled eyes...and a smile.

The killer's eyes darted down to the phaser; back to Leonard.

"Honestly: did you really think that would work?"

Khan bent the phaser in half.

The doctor's good eye went wide.

How the hell was that even possible? Those things had duranium casings! How––

"Oh, the look on your face is…priceless," Khan chuckled; tossed the useless phaser to the floor. "That alone was worth the mind–numbing wait. Honestly, I am glad that I decided to not simply grab a tricorder and hunt you down. This...this is far better."

Hairs rose on the back of the doctor's neck.

The killer had been up far longer than he'd thought: long enough where he could've tracked Leonard like a wounded animal; cornered him in some remote alcove; made a sport out of his murder…

What had stopped Khan?

...What was that psycho gonna do to him?

Khan pointed to the doctor's biobed.

"Sit down."

Leonard didn't move.

If he sat, he just knew he'd spend the rest of his...suddenly too long life...screaming.

If he tried to run, he'd maybe make it a foot before there'd be an arm around his throat.

If he fought, he'd lose. Horrifically.

...But it'd be quick.

Leonard rammed an elbow into Khan's stomach.

The killer let out a huff of air...but didn't budge.

Bridge of the nose. Breaking it'd definitely piss the guy off enough...

He swung.

Khan caught the fist an inch from his face...and grinned.

"Oh, do keep trying: I applaud your audacity."

...Goddamnit!

Khan was toying with him!

The bastard knew what Leonard was trying to do...and wasn't gonna let him off that easy.

...There really was no escaping whatever Khan had planned.

Leonard's free arm dropped to his side; he slumped against the doorway in defeat.

The killer's head tilted. "Are you done already?"

The doctor swallowed; weakly nodded.

Khan chuckled. "I admit, I expected more of a fight...but then again, you've always been swift to catch on, haven't you?"

Leonard didn't respond.

"Very well." Khan stepped farther away; tugged on Leonard's still–captured fist. "Come along."

He let the killer pull him back to his biobed. Nearly fell a couple times...but he made it there.

"Sit."

He sat.

Khan grinned; finally released Leonard's hand.

"Stay."

...He stayed.

It wasn't like he had a choice: it felt like all his energy had been sucked out of him; he could barely stay upright.

Never taking his eyes off Leonard, Khan backed away; picked his coat up off the floor; pulled out a PADD.

"Thank you for bringing this, doctor." The killer typed something into the PADD; Leonard heard the shackle clink open. "It would have been...inconvenient...for me to have to retrieve it...and agonizing for you."

...Like that'd ever been an issue.

"Now then," Khan started forward again; paused. "...Are there any other weapons I should know about?"

Leonard started to shake his head; froze.

He'd forgotten...he still had his knife.

"Because if I find one when I search you, doctor...I promise, you will not like how it is used."

...Nope.

Not about to find out what that meant.

"A–a knife," Leonard croaked. "There's a knife in my waistband."

"What about the hypo?"

"On the biobed by the shelves. All I've got's the knife. I swear."

Khan nodded; walked over.

"Give it to me. Handle first."

He passed the sheathed knife to his captor with a shaking hand.

Khan slipped the coat back on; reattached the sheath to the inside of its left sleeve; smirked.

"Hold out your left ankle."

The doctor complied; tried not to weep as Khan grabbed the open shackle off the floor; clamped it back in place.

...That was it.

No escape. No running.

He'd never leave that room again.

The killer drew a deep breath in; let it out; sat to Leonard's right...in the middle of his blindspot.

The doctor stared at the floor; fought the useless urge to bolt.

God, he was so tired…

"Now tell me, doctor," Khan hummed. "What mischief did you get up to while I was unconscious? I need to know how painful to make this."

...The distress signal was still playing. If he could just keep his mouth shut, maybe Khan wouldn't find it until––

A hand ran through Leonard's hair; the other cupped the left side of his face; forced him to look at his captor.

Khan's intense, artificial blue eyes gleamed.

"Honestly doctor: do you _want_ me to kill your daughter?"

Leonard's throat went dry; his eyes watered.

Please God...no...

He knew he was dead. He knew...

But not Joanna! Not his little girl! She––

"That was _not_ a rhetorical question!" The killer's fist clenched in Leonard's hair. "From everything I've heard, she is a sweet child, but if you insist on keeping things from me––"

"Leave her alone! I'll tell you anythin' ya wanna know! Just please, don't hurt––"

"Then what did you do?"

...He had no choice.

"I sent out a distress call," Leonard said quietly. "I put it on a loop, then went fer a walk. Just on this floor. Found your room; had something ta eat; found...Nitika...then headed back here ta give you another dose of anesthesia. That's it. That's all I had time for."

Khan stared at him...and let out a hysterical giggle.

The hand slipped from Leonard's hair; moved to his shoulder; squeezed so hard the doctor was sure something would break.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid man!" Khan eased his grip; patted Leonard's cheek. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?"

...What?

"...Whaddaya mean?"

"Every signal I sent out from here was carefully masked," the killer huffed. "But you...you sent out the distress call out on all–frequencies, didn't you?"

"...I figured...if we were close enough to a Federation outpost, they'd––"

"And as understandable as that instinct was, it was a serious miscalculation." Khan chuckled; shook his head. "Doctor, this is not Federation space! We are in the Quel–Nok System: one of the thousands of systems in the heart of the Federation–Klingon Neutral Zone! Your message may reach Starfleet eventually, but the Klingons will definitely beat them here."


	45. Chapter 45

Drowning.

Definitely drowning.

Or evisceration.

Or both.

Simultaneously.

There were so many ways to kill McCoy, Khan was having trouble picking one. Some methods were simply too quick; others lacked...creativity.

The killer sneered as he bolted through the Botany Bay.

He could decide how the doctor would die _after_ the man's godforsaken distress signal had been deactivated.

Khan quickly reached the bridge; dashed over to the communications panel. It did not take long to disable the recording, but the damage was already done.

The killer kicked the bottom of the console; left a dent in the metal.

All that time spent repairing the ship...

All that effort to keep their location hidden...

In one morning, McCoy had made nearly everything they had accomplished in the past forty one days completely useless.

...But he refused to give up.

There was still one possibility; one way that he might be able to hold onto their refuge...at least for a time.

Khan crossed to the device he had been toying with for nearly a week. It was not yet in perfect condition: the device was meant to cover a smaller vessel; his modifications could only extend the output of its power cells so far.

As a compromise, he had tied the device into the Botany Bay's power supply. It meant a lot of loose wires were dangling out of panels; that the device could not be easily moved...but if it worked the way he intended it to, that would never be a problem.

The terrorist grimaced as he activated the device; saw the lights on the bridge dim by at least twenty percent.

Even with the its internal power cells supplying a majority of its power requirements, it would take every spare ounce of energy the ship could produce to keep the it running continuously.

...Hopefully, he would not have to.

Hopefully, neither the Klingons nor the Federation had received the distress call; hopefully no one would come.

...But if they did, they would not find him. Not yet.

Khan turned to the ship's sensor panel; programmed it to send out a shipwide alarm the moment another vessel came within a lightyear of the Botany Bay. It would not be a great deal of warning time, but it was the best he could do with a hybrid system.

The killer leaned against the panel; let out a frustrated scream.

His people's new home...was gone.

There was no way to safely colonize that moon now. Before, the risk of discovery had been small: Klingons apparently viewed the moon to be just as useless as the Federation did; neither side was eager to risk war by entering the Neutral Zone over a moon that could not even support transporter technologies.

He should have scouted back–up locations for his people's refuge long ago. It was a foolish risk to put all of his hopes on one moon; a risk he never should have allowed himself to take.

...At least he would not have to start his search completely from scratch. The data from the deep space telemetry lab he had raided the month before had lists of M–class planets and moons. It would simply be a matter of finding a world that could be settled discreetly, without alerting Starfleet or the Klingons.

...But that could wait.

With the distress call deactivated; the sensors scanning for ships; and the device online, Khan's mind turned back to his captive.

That reckless, selfish, insignificant man had endangered the freedom of his entire crew.

Khan still was unsure on the method...but McCoy would pay for what he had done with his life.

The killer left the bridge; did not stop moving until he was outside the medbay door.

Once there, he hesitated.

...His captive would likely do anything to avoid what was coming; was undoubtedly lying in wait on the other side of the door with...something...to incapacitate him. Given that McCoy could not have known how long Khan would be gone, and the subsequent low likelihood of the man taking the time to heal his injured right eye...

The doctor would be on the right.

Khan stepped inside; quickly turned.

McCoy's hand sped towards him with another hypo.

The killer easily caught his captive's wrist; plucked the hypo from the doctor's fingers; slipped it into his pocket.

McCoy's good eye went wide; a nervous smile twitched onto his face.

"...Can't blame a fella for tryin'?"

Khan snorted; grabbed the doctor's shoulders; lifted him a few inches off the ground.

"I...disagree."

He threw McCoy across the room.

His captive hit the ground hard; rolled to a stop near the back wall; let out a groan.

Khan smirked.

That felt...satisfying.

The killer crossed; towered over McCoy as he struggled to sit up. It appeared the fall had forced the doctor's right shoulder out of its socket; caused the man to bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

...It was a start.

"I admire your determination," Khan admitted. "But you cannot save yourself, doctor. It is––"

"Use my name!"

The killer tilted his head.

"What?"

McCoy shakily pushed himself to his feet.

It was quite a sight: the doctor's right arm drooped at his side; he could barely stand…

But his good eye burned with rage.

"My name is Leonard Horatio McCoy," the captive seethed. "Not 'doctor!' Maybe it makes it easier for ya ta treat me like dirt if my job's all I am, but I'm a person! If you have any decency stashed away in that black hole you call a heart, then before ya kill me, give me the goddamn respect of callin' me by my goddamn name!"

Khan huffed.

Such a stupid, petty request.

This was _supposed_ to cause McCoy pain, not ease it.

And...pets...did not get to choose their names.

"I am curious, _doctor_ ," Khan drew the reclaimed knife from his sleeve; his captive tensed. "I understand the phaser: a long–range weapon to protect yourself...but why did you take a knife? Did you intend to torture the locations of the bombs out of me? Because if that was your plan––"

"'Course not! I'm not you."

The killer rolled his eyes. "Then what was it? Because the only options I see are––"

"It was for me!" McCoy snapped. "For pretty much this exact goddamn scenario! Do ya get it now?"

Khan raised an eyebrow. "You really wanted to die that way? By your––"

"I _wanna_ die an old man, surrounded by friends and family, but that's not gonna happen, is it?" The doctor's left hand clenched into a fist. "I've been dead since the moment ya beamed me out of my medbay on the Enterprise. Every time ya walked in the room, a part of me thought it was the end. Honestly, the fact that ya didn't kill me the first time I talked back was a shock! Especially after you butchered that pilot for no good goddamn reason––and no, I'm never gonna forget what ya did to that poor bastard!"

Khan frowned. "What does the pilot have to do with this? He was just––"

"He was a person!" McCoy screamed. "He had people who cared about him––people he loved! And you threw him away like spoiled milk! You think you're so goddamn special––a couple tweaks in your genome, and ya think you can do whatever ya want to whoever ya want. Well, guess what? That's bullshit! That attitude was wrong when people used it to justify slavery in America four hundred years ago! It was wrong when Nazis used it to butcher millions of people three hundred years ago! It was wrong when your people tried it and started the goddamn Eugenics Wars, and it's still wrong now!"

The killer thought of interrupting; of silencing that rebellious voice with a hand to the throat...but he decided to let his captive fume.

"We live in a universe with a freakin' infinite level of diversity! There are species that've had warp for millennia; and species that are barely into the stone age. Where the hell do you get off thinkin' your superhuman strength, or your healing crap––or whatever other hand–picked traits those jackasses that called themselves doctors gave you––makes ya any better than the rest of us?"

It was McCoy's final grand speech, after all...and it was remarkably good. There was no need to rush him.

"I shoulda let you bleed out on that biobed," McCoy growled. "At least then ya wouldn't have murdered as many innocent people...but I can sure as hell settle for sending your Augmented ass scramblin' for a new home!"

...And the retort Khan had in mind would last hours...if not days.

"But maybe I shouldn't've bothered. Maybe I should've just lent ya a hand in getting your people back––it's not like they're gonna follow some random British guy anyway––they'll probably take ya out themselves!"

Khan's jaw clenched.

"That's enough, doctor."

"What are ya gonna do, kill me?" McCoy snapped. "Already gonna happen. But is that how you're gonna deal with your followers if ya don't like something they say? Are ya gonna murder your own people if they refused to bow down to your Frankensteined––"

"ENOUGH!"

Khan grabbed his captive by the throat; started to squeeze.

It was time. No playing games. McCoy would die right…

The doctor wasn't struggling. The moment the hand wrapped around his neck, he just grimaced; closed his eyes. A second later, his face was nearly completely relaxed.

...Of course.

Khan loosened his grip.

McCoy gasped; coughed; groaned.

"Goddamnit! Just end this, ya sick f––"

"Very clever, _doctor_!" Khan chuckled; tousled McCoy's hair. "You almost made me do it, didn't you? Just a heartbeat more, and...Tell me: what little memory did you attempt to bury yourself in?"

"...I don't know what ya mean."

The killer smirked. " _Doctor_ , I know that look. That pilot you failed to save had that look near the end as well. Where were you trying to go?"

The doctor glared; looked away.

"...You don't get ta know that."

"Oh, come now," Khan hummed. "Is it a farm? Some place of your own, with a plot of alfalfa for the rab––"

McCoy spat in his face.

The killer grimaced; wiped the mixture of blood and saliva on his sleeve. There weren't many ways the doctor could fight back...but that apparently was not going to stop him from trying.

Khan held up the knife again; lightly ran the blade from the corner of McCoy's left eye; through his beard; down to his throat.

A little psychological torment first: drive the doctor insane with fear before the first cut was ever made. The man had earned it a thousand times over.

"You are just dying to begin, aren't you?"

McCoy's pulse raced; it was clearly a strain to keep his breath even.

But still, he sneered.

"Well, are ya gonna choke me, or cut my throat? Doin' both just seems redundant."

Khan tilted his head; smirked.

"Do you have a preference?"

McCoy didn't look away.

"If you're dead set on choking me or usin' the knife, then go for the carotid arteries, just under my ears...But if I've got any choice in this, then I'd prefer that hypo of anesthetic in your pocket. One maxed–out dose'll put me under instantly; the second'll stop my heart. I'd probably be able ta have an open–casket...if there was anybody left for a funeral."

Khan's eyebrows shot up.

Had...had the doctor just tried to make a joke?

...Of course he had. It was the deathroes of McCoy's pride.

His captive was trying so hard to be brave...but it wouldn't last.

He wouldn't allow it.

The killer leaned in until his mouth was less than an inch from McCoy's right ear.

"Oh, _doctor_ ," Khan chuckled. "Don't worry about your funeral...you won't have one. When I am done with you, I am simply going to toss whatever's left out the airlock."

He felt his captive's breath hitch.

"You remember what falling feels like, don't you, _doctor_? The air rushing around you; the ground coming up far, far too quickly; the agony when you finally land..."

The man shuddered violently.

"This moon will be your grave, _doctor_. The yellow sands will cover your broken body, just like they covered the pilot's...and just like they will someday cover those of your replacement, Christine Chapel."

McCoy stilled.

"...Ch... _Chapel_?"

Khan paused.

There was...confusion...in the doctor's voice.

"You didn't forget that part of our arrangement, did you? Your selfishness in trying to escape from me will cost your old colleague her freedom. She already hates me, so that should speed––"

"Then there were survivors?" McCoy interrupted. "Some of the crew survived?"

...What?

The killer pulled away; studied his captive.

McCoy's left eye was wide, but not overwhelmed with terror; the corner of the man's injured lips twitched minisculely upwards.

...Hope.

There was hope on the doctor's face.

But why? Why would McCoy be...

"What are you talking about?" The killer demanded. "What crew?"

" _My_ crew! What the hell other crew would I mean?!"

Khan's brow furrowed.

Why would the doctor think something happened to his crew? When did McCoy think Khan had had time to attack them? When he went to Paris? While he taunted Kirk; blew up that shut...

The shuttle.

Of course.

McCoy must not have realized Kirk had beamed to Xedna Eight from a shuttle instead of the Enterprise.

He thought the Enterprise had been destroyed; that all of his friends were dead.

The doctor's hopeful expression flickered; turned to desperation.

"Dammit Khan...were there survivors or not?"

Khan stared in disbelief.

...He had been in McCoy's situation twice before: when Admiral Marcus made him believe his people had been murdered; when Commander Spock had done the same.

He knew what that grief felt like: the unquenchable thirst for revenge, overriding logic and reason; driving one to commit horrific acts.

...But it hadn't, had it?

Not for McCoy.

"How did you hold yourself back?" Khan marveled. "You incapacitated me. I was completely vulnerable! You could have killed me in a heartbeat, or taken your time, and...Why am I still alive?"

Rage flushed the doctor's features.

"I've got a conscience, Khan. If I killed you, all your bombs would've gone off. I'd rather die than have that blood on my hands."

The killer blinked.

He could understand keeping him alive to stop the bombs, but any restraint beyond that...

"But you did not even cripple me! You had access to scissors; laser scalpels. Why––"

"Because I'm a decent person!" McCoy shouted. "I would never, _ever_ hurt somebody like that! Not even you!"

Khan gaped at his captive; found himself utterly...speechless.

McCoy was serious.

The doctor had had his worst enemy sprawled at his feet––a man he thought had killed nearly everyone he loved––and, even at risk to his own life and freedom...McCoy had not been able to hurt him.

A chuckle pushed its way up Khan's throat; he ignored McCoy's yelp of pain as he gripped his captive's right shoulder; pressed the hilt of his knife to his lips to stifle his amusement.

"...What the hell are ya doing?"

He couldn't...It was just too ridiculous!

Khan burst out laughing.

"...Stop..."

McCoy had risked his life; risked unspeakable amounts of pain––

"Stop laughing, ya bastard!"

––All so he could escape. And when the time came, the doctor couldn't bear to harm his––

"Goddamnit! STOP!"

McCoy's fist pummeled Khan's side and back.

Annoyance crept in with the amusement.

The doctor's attack didn't hurt: the angle was all wrong, and the muscles in McCoy's left arm were undoubtedly still weak from his recent injuries.

But as feeble an attempt at resistance as it was…it was resistance nonetheless.

Khan sent his knife through a steel panel, less than an inch from the doctor's left ear.

McCoy flinched; his left hand flattened against the wall behind him.

"Okay okay! I get the message."

The killer chuckled; left the knife embedded in the wall; grabbed his captive by the chin.

"If you were capable of 'getting the message,' this wouldn't have to happen."

"Come on, Khan," McCoy scowled. "No matter what you think, I'm not stupid. Even if I hadn't tried to escape, you'd've killed me sooner or later...and probably right in front of Jim. 'Least this way I'm dyin' for somethin' I did, 'stead of being murdered just so you can hurt my best friend."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "How noble."

...In a way...it truly was.

Even in the face of a violent death, he was concerned about Kirk's well–being. McCoy was nothing if not compassionate.

...He apparently even extended that compassion to his enemies.

For McCoy to not even attempt to inflict pain on his captor when he had the chance...it was a remarkable level of restraint.

Khan's right hand inched towards his pocket.

...Perhaps he could return the gesture.

After all...he was the only one who would ever know for certain how McCoy met his end.

There was no reason he could not be merciful.

The killer pulled the hypo of anesthesia from his pocket; held it up to the doctor's good eye.

"Is there any special trick to this?"

McCoy's eye went wide with fear...but then he swallowed; shook his head.

"...Not really. When it's on a high setting, there's a sixty second lock that comes on after you use it. 'Supposed ta keep ya from accidentally overdosing a patient...But after a minute, the lock disengages, and…yeah."

Khan nodded. "I understand."

The killer checked the dosage; it was already set as high as it would go.

His captive shook slightly; possibly unconsciously...but did not struggle.

"Khan...before you...Please, just tell me: did anybody on the Enterprise survive?"

The Augment thought of trying to explain the misunderstanding; to show the doctor how pointless his revenge spiral had been...but he doubted McCoy would believe him. It would simply sound too good to be true.

"They did," Khan said. "And I am certain that, by now, Kirk has been safely picked up by a rescue shuttle."

The man let out a deep breath; sucked another in. His good eye glistened.

"Please...leave Chapel alone. She's a good person. She doesn't deserve––"

"I need a doctor," Khan interrupted. "You do not have a say in whom I choose."

"But––"

"Enough." This was pointless. "Nothing you say will change my mind. You cannot save her."

McCoy looked down; a tear rolled down his cheek.

"...I know."

Khan sighed. Even at the end, the doctor could not resist his urge to protect others. It was annoying...and admirable.

The killer placed a restraining hand on the right side of McCoy's neck. The man's pulse still raced; the tremors were increasing...but he was somehow keeping his breathing under control.

"If you wanted to close your eyes...now would be the time."

Wordlessly, his captive complied. Khan shifted his grip on the hypo; prepared to––

"Wait."

Khan paused. "What is it now?"

The doctor looked at him pleadingly.

"...Joanna?"

...Ah.

Of course.

A father to the end.

Khan rolled the hypo between his thumb and forefinger; shrugged.

"It would take a great deal of time and energy to track her down...I have better things to do."

Clearly understanding, McCoy relaxed; his mouth twitched into a small smile.

"...Thank you."

The killer nodded; moved the hypo into position.

...Maybe...just once.

"Goodnight, Leonard Horatio McCoy."

Khan waited for comprehension to register on the doctor's face; then pressed the hypo into his captive's neck.

McCoy's head lolled forward; his knees buckled.

Khan caught him instinctively; debated what to do next.

...It seemed...appropriate...to allow the man to die on a biobed, rather than in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The chain attached to McCoy's ankle clinked incessantly as the killer carried his captive over to where the man normally slept. He set McCoy down; checked the hypo.

...Still thirty–six seconds on the lock.

Khan looked down impatiently at McCoy.

He could just snap the man's neck and be done with it...but that seemed...wrong.

In the end, McCoy had acted with far more dignity than the killer had expected. It seemed right to...respect...the effort that must've taken.

Khan looked around the medbay.

It would be...odd...for a time to come into this room and not find McCoy there. But he would adjust. He would have a new doctor to break in, after all, and that would fill a great deal of his time.

The lock on the hypo clicked off.

The killer crossed his captive's arms over the center of his chest; brushed the man's messy hair away from his face; readied the hypo.

Just one more dose, and…

Khan tilted his head; frowned.

...His hand was shaking.

The killer straightened; took a deep breath; clenched and unclenched his hands. With the threats and bombings and thwarted escape attempt, he had not eaten anything since the day before. His blood sugar was obviously low; his body running on a dwindling supply of adrenaline.

His hand steadied; Khan leaned down again.

Yes. That's all it was. A little food after this; maybe even one of those nutrition packs McCoy had stashed in his coat…they would do perfectly.

The killer reached out with the hypo again...

...And his hand shook violently.

"GODDAMNIT!"

Khan threw the hypo across the room; it broke apart against a storage crate.

The killer seethed; glared at his unconscious captive.

Why couldn't McCoy have been a cruel man? A hard–eyed, stone–faced Section–31 doctor, prepared to torture as well as heal? Why couldn't he have delighted in causing pain and suffering; of laughing in the face of his oaths whenever it suited his needs?

It would make everything far easier…

The terrorist growled; turned to grab another hypo from the shelves.

He had no choice in this.

He _needed_ to kill McCoy.

The doctor had been nothing but a headache for the past forty–one days. His escape attempt would be one of many if Khan let him live. It was well past time to put an end to the annoying, rebellious, weak––

Khan stopped; tilted his head in shock.

...The anesthetic vials were on the top shelf of the third bookcase.

McCoy had managed to collect a vial from that shelf and load it into an empty hypo...all with a broken arm and leg.

Even an Augment would have struggled to reach those supplies! The physical and psychological strain must have been tremendous; the willpower required…

Khan turned to his captive; let out an impressed huff.

Physically, McCoy was nothing: just as feeble as any other 'normal' human.

But mentally...he had to be one of the strongest men Khan had ever seen.

A weak man could never have reached those vials.

A weak man would have killed Khan out of revenge, regardless of the subsequent death toll.

A weak man would have begged for his life, instead of pleading for the safety of his friends and family in the face of pure…

...Brutality.

Khan grimaced.

...That truly was all he had shown the doctor during his captivity. He had given McCoy little leniency; met nearly all resistance with threats and violence.

It was no wonder the man had rebelled.

...No.

Khan found an empty hypo; loaded a vial of anaesthetic.

He could not afford to second guess himself. His people were counting on him to take decisive actions; to put their needs before his own desires; to…

To lead them.

The hypo bent in Khan's tense hand; the cracked vial spilled its contents over the floor.

The killer looked down in annoyance. He would have to replace it yet again.

...And again. And again.

...How many times would he replace McCoy? How many doctors would he kidnap; break to his will; kill when they rebelled…like they all eventually would…

And what would Gideon Hawkins––his people's own doctor––say when he found out what Khan had done? The man was a pacifist! He would be appalled; disgusted...

...Rebellious.

Khan dropped the useless hypo; sat on the closest biobed; glowered at his captive.

...McCoy was right.

He could not rule his people through force alone.

Khan had won their hearts hundreds of years before not by being the most vicious Augment in the region, but by exemplifying the qualities of a true leader.

Patience.

Restraint.

Tact.

Fairness.

Those qualities, reinforced with his intelligence and a genuine desire to protect his people...that was what had won over his fellow Augments. Not threats; not violence...but true leadership.

...And he had neglected all of those qualities in his quest for revenge.

It was a delusion to believe they would follow him the way he was now...not even if he still looked like himself. He had become far too vengeful; too unforgiving.

He needed to practice those qualities again; to become a true leader before a single member of his crew was revived. If he remained the way he was, they would, at best, turn on him in a matter of days.

...Practice.

Khan ran a hand through his hair.

How does one _practice_ patience, restraint, tact, and fairness? How does one _practice_ leadership without anyone to lead? How does one…

...Wait.

The killer grinned.

...McCoy.

McCoy was the last person in the universe that would ever follow him...and the man tested Khan's patience to no end.

If he kept the doctor alive; healthy...Khan would have all the opportunities to practice that he could ever want.

...But to do that, he had to ensure McCoy did not drop dead.

Khan turned back to the shelves; searched until he found a container of empty syringes.

He removed one; pressed the tiny needle into a vein in his right arm; watched the empty vial fill with blood.

The killer crossed to his captive with the full syringe; looked him over.

McCoy's right arm was still out of its socket. If the man healed with his shoulder like that, his arm could be permanently immobilized; his usefulness as a doctor would be diminished drastically.

Khan quickly remedied that situation as he calculated his odds of success.

Fortunately, blood type itself wouldn't be an issue: Khan's creators had ensured all Augments would have O–negative blood. It was one less variable to account for in their litany of experiments; allowed their blood to be transfused between fellow Augments without risk of complication.

The process, however, would take far longer than it had for Harewood's daughter. The proper equipment to concentrate the platelets and to filter out white blood cells had taken a...direct...phaser hit during his escape from Xedna Eight. If too much raw blood was administered too quickly, the white blood cells could cause a violent immune reaction; send McCoy into shock.

...And even if he was careful, if the genetic component of xenopolycythemia was too complex to be rewritten; discarded by the Augment DNA...the entire endeavour would still end in the doctor's murder.

But...he would try.

McCoy's resilient spirit; his stubborn compassion...they were well worth studying; worth...preserving.

They could keep Khan on his toes for years.

He found a vein in the doctor's left arm; aligned the syringe; pressed down.

The vial of blood slowly emptied.

Khan smirked.

McCoy would not be happy when he woke up...but their battle of wills wasn't over.

Not by far.


	46. Chapter 46

_It hurt to breathe._

 _It hurt to swallow._

 _It...it hurt._

 _It hurt so much._

 _Acid. It had to be._

 _There was acid in his veins, burning him from the inside out._

 _Leonard screamed._

 _He begged his brain to let him pass out; to stop...to just stop._

 _But it wouldn't cooperate._

 _He sobbed._

 _Why hadn't Khan just killed him? Whatever the psychopath was doing to him, it was pure agony; pure…_

 _Hell._

 _...This was Hell._

 _All those old stories his grandma told him were true. He was dead, and he'd gone to Hell for killing his father; for helping Khan. That was the only explanation. The only way anything could hurt this––_

 _A weight rested on his forehead; he let out a whimper._

" _It is alright, doctor. It will pass."_

 _He didn't try to open his eyes; didn't want to see...whatever this thing, this...demon...was going to do to him next._

 _Leonard felt something prick his neck, and his mind went muddy; dark..._

 _...Then, he was cold._

 _So, so cold._

 _No acid in his veins anymore: now it felt like he was encased in ice. Like his skin and muscles were frozen solid; ready to shatter at the slightest provocation._

 _Was he in space? Tossed out the airlock?_

 _He couldn't be. People can't breathe in space. Even with his skin frozen, the doctor could feel his lungs working. They ached, but they were working._

 _...The cryotube._

 _Had the demon, or Khan, or whatever the hell it was that was torturing him like this, put him in a cryotube; screwed with the controls so that he'd feel himself freeze?_

 _He didn't want to move; didn't want to break apart, but he couldn't stop himself._

 _Leonard shivered violently._

 _...Nothing broke._

 _There was something wet rolling down the side of his face; his nose suddenly filled with the stench of sweat._

 _...Was it some kind of fever? Was he––_

 _Something hissed. The doctor groaned; tried to move; failed._

" _Damn!"_

 _Footsteps. Fast footsteps._

 _A weight...a hand...on his forehead again. Cold. Somehow colder than his skin._

 _Leonard's eyes cracked open; he saw a blurry figure standing over him._

" _P...please…"_

 _The figure shushed him; leaned in._

 _...No._

 _Whoever...whatever...that was...it couldn't be Khan._

 _He looked far too...worried._

 _It had to be a trick. A...demon...manifesting his worst fears._

 _The hand ran through his hair; "Khan" smiled sadly._

" _Go back to sleep."_

 _Another prick in his neck; the world pulled away._

" _That's it. Just re…"_

 _...Then he was on his stomach, dry-heaving off the side of…_

 _Was he on a biobed? How..._

 _There was something sharp digging into his right arm; his new angle was making...whatever it was...move around painfully._

 _He grabbed at it; tried to pull––_

 _A hand clamped around his wrist; squeezed; he let go with a cry of pain. Feet appeared in the corner of his foggy vision._

" _Don't touch that. You don't want––"_

 _Another round of retching. He spat a glob of sour bile on the floor._

 _Whatever was doing this to him made a disgusted noise; pushed the doctor onto his side._

 _Leonard tried to curl in on himself. It felt like someone was squeezing his insides; pulling them out; rearranging them. His heart pounded; his body shook; he wept._

 _...Eternity._

 _If this really was Hell, he was gonna spend eternity like this, going from kind of one pain to the next. It'd never stop. It'd––_

 _Another prick in his neck, and his senses faded out..._

...Then, he was thirsty.

His throat felt crisp; his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth; everything tasted...godawful.

There was a dull ache behind Leonard's eyes; it turned to needle pricks as he cracked them open.

...A rusty ceiling. Ancient lights. He recognized that half-disintegrated tile...

Definitely the Botany Bay.

Was...was this real?

He tried to sit up...and couldn't.

His hands were tied down; there was something tight wrapped around his chest, pinning him.

...Definitely real.

...Definitely not good.

The doctor tried to move his feet; froze as he felt the...hairs on his legs...brush against what could only be the blanket tucked under his chin.

He...didn't seem to be wearing...pants.

And his back felt weird, like there was something under him: something kinda oval-ish and flat and...

Was...was he lying on a freaking bedpan?!

Leonard started hyperventilating.

What the hell was going on? What the _hell––_

He heard the medbay door hiss open; barely lifted his head enough to see Khan step inside.

The killer paused; raised an eyebrow.

"Are you coherent this time, or do I need to put you under again?"

...Put him under?

It...it couldn't've all been a dream. Dreams don't hurt like that. Dreams didn't explain––

"Doctor, can you understand what I am saying?"

It made Leonard's head swim, but he nodded. No need to get 'put under again.' Not if it meant...whatever'd happened...would keep happening.

...Though he wasn't convinced this'd lead to anything better...

"Good." Khan smiled. "We can finally move this along."

The psychopath quickly stepped around the biobed; out of the doctor's line of sight; towards the bathroom.

A moment later, he heard water running.

Was…was that monster gonna use the water on him again?

"...No…" Leonard croaked.

The sink turned off.

The footsteps started coming back.

Not again. God, not again!

The doctor tugged at his restraints; whimpered. He was too weak to get free. He'd always been too weak…

The killer towered over him.

"D–don't––"

"Calm down, McCoy."

The use of his name took Leonard aback; he stopped struggling.

Khan held up a small cup.

"If you promise not to do something foolish, I will untie you and let you have some water."

...It...it had to be a trick.

...But he was so thirsty.

"...I...promise."

The doctor tensed as his captor set the cup down; pulled the blanket off him. He hadn't realized he was wearing a hospital gown, and that discovery did absolutely nothing to settle his nerves.

"Don't try to move yet," Khan ripped apart the bandages across Leonard's chest. "If you tip over that bedpan again, I am not cleaning it up."

The doctor grimaced.

That answered one disturbing question...and raised a few more.

"And if the IV in your right arm comes out, _you_ are putting it back in."

Leonard's eyebrows shot up.

IV? What…

The doctor looked down at his right arm.

There was a needle taped into his skin; a tube leading to a half–empty bag on a pole.

What the hell was that psycho putting into him?!

"Calm down, doctor. I promise you, it is just saline. You likely would have died days ago without it."

...DAYS?!

What the hell did that mean? What had that bastard done?! What…

Khan glowered.

...Don't make him mad.

Don't make him...

Leonard forced himself to take a deep breath.

"...Won't...take it out. Promise."

The killer shredded the bandages on the doctor's wrists; let out an annoyed sigh.

"Do you think you can move off that...thing...on your own? Or do you need help?"

Move off…

...Oh.

Right.

He pushed himself an inch off the biobed; collapsed back down with a wince.

"Well, I suppose that answers that," Khan muttered. "Are you ready?"

Leonard cringed. He was really, really uncomfortable with this...but he didn't have the energy to argue...and he wanted off that godforsaken bedpan.

"...Fine."

An awkward moment later, the doctor found himself on his side, his right arm carefully pulled from under him to keep the IV from detaching.

A line of cold air ran along his back; he shivered.

"Right...my apologies. Here…"

Mercifully, the killer wrapped the blanket around him; Leonard heard footsteps hurrying away.

The doctor touched the IV embedded in his arm. It couldn't just be saline. Not if what little he remembered from the past few...days...was any indication. Whatever that monster was really putting in his veins, it was stealing what little strength he'd ever had.

...But he didn't dare pull the IV out.

This had to be some kind of psychological torture. Whatever Khan had done to him for the past...he didn't know how long...was just the start; now the man was pretending to help him...just long enough to make Leonard feel better; make the doctor start to think that he might survive this...and then that psycho'd start hurting him again.

And if he didn't play along...it would probably be even worse.

"I never realized how absolutely disgusting the human body could be," the killer grumbled as he returned. "But I suppose I brought this on myself, didn't I?"

Was...was he supposed to agree? Or was he supposed to say that this was all his fault; that he'd earned this treatment; that––

A hand rested on his shoulder; he flinched.

"Relax...it was a rhetorical question."

Without another word, Khan helped Leonard onto his back; adjusted the head of the biobed so that the doctor was sitting upright. The killer picked up the water cup again; held it out.

"Small amounts to start. Do not make yourself sick."

Leonard accepted the cup; took a sip. Pure, delicious water washed over his tongue. He took another sip; swished the water between his teeth; scrubbed away some of the foul taste in his mouth.

"Better, doctor?"

"Yeah...Thanks."

His throat already felt a bit better...but the liquid seemed to be waking up his...hungry as hell...stomach.

It let out a loud, low growl; Khan chuckled.

"Well, I suppose that was only a matter of time: you haven't eaten in days...In your expert opinion, what foods would help ease you back into a healthy diet?"

...Days...that bastard kept saying days...

He swallowed another sip of water; carefully set it down on the biobed.

"...How long?"

"Ah, yes," The killer nodded. "That would probably help. Six days, doctor. You have been...incapacitated...for about six days."

...Six days…

Leonard felt sick.

How could he have been unconscious for six days? Why? What had happened…

Trying to ground himself, the doctor pressed his left hand against his mouth; froze at the smoothness of the surrounding skin. He touched his cheeks; his neck...

His beard was gone.

Leonard stared up at his captor.

"Did...did you...shave me?"

Khan grimaced. "You kept...vomiting. It was a sanitation necessity."

"But why the hell did ya bother?!" The doctor croaked. "This nightmare's endin' with me bein' tossed out the airlock, right? So why would ya––"

"Is that what you think?" The killer raised an eyebrow. "That this is all an elaborate method of execution? Why would I waste my time like that?"

"But you said––"

"I changed my mind."

Leonard sucked in a breath.

Did...Did that really mean…

"You're...really not gonna kill me?"

Khan shrugged.

"I probably should: that escape attempt was definitely an act worthy of execution...But there is something...fascinating...in you. Something I want to...study. And I cannot do that if you're dead."

...Dear god, he'd been downgraded from abused pet to lab rat!

He was being kept alive as part of some sick experiment! There was no telling what Khan had planned; what fresh hells he was conjuring up––

"Oh, stop looking so worried! The worst part is already over."

What the hell did that mean?!

Leonard tried and failed to stifle his panic.

All that time unconscious...All that time he couldn't remember...Those flashes of nausea; of agony...

...Had he really been unconscious?

What if he'd been awake through it all? What if his mind was blocking out…

"What did––" His voice cracked; he tried again. "...What did ya do ta me?"

Khan smirked; pulled a medical tricorder from his coat; set it on the doctor's lap.

"Take a look."

With a tremor in his hand, Leonard quietly popped out the handheld scanner. He pointed the scanner at the IV–drip. He needed to know what Khan was pumping into his...

...Saline.

It really was just...saline.

Relieved but suspicious, the doctor turned the scanner back on himself.

If that bastard had done even half of what Leonard feared, then his body could be a mess of internal bleeding, and inflamed scar tissue, and…

...Nothing.

The doctor blinked; passed the scanner over himself again.

...There were no broken bones; no internal bleeding. Not even any bruises.

It...it didn't make sense.

When Khan put him under the first time, he'd had a screwed up shoulder; four barely–healed broken bones; enough smaller injuries to keep him black–and–blue for a month.

He looked up at his captor in confusion.

"I thought ya said it'd only been six days?"

The killer nodded. "I swear, it has. Keep going."

Leonard scanned himself a third time. There was obviously something Khan wanted him to find: something he'd put in him, or taken out, or…

His...spleen.

His spleen looked...normal.

And not normal as in the two–sizes–too big 'new normal' that he'd grown accustomed to in the past month. Normal, as in…

Healthy.

Not swollen.

Not...diseased...

He was malnourished; a bit dehydrated; he seemed to have a low-grade fever...but besides that...there was nothing wrong with him.

His xenopolycythemia was...gone.

The doctor stared at the results, shocked.

There was only one thing that could possibly do this. One…

"You...you cured me," Leonard whispered. "Ya gave me a transfusion of your blood."

"At last, you've found it!" Khan chuckled. "Although actually, you are still slightly incorrect: it was three transfusions, given at two–day intervals. But yes: I cured you. And I promise, I did not endure all that...disgusting caretaking...just so I could snuff your life out a few days later."

The doctor gaped. " _Caretaking_? Are you really sayin' that ya weren't tryin' ta torture me? _My god_ man, it felt like I was on fire!"

The killer stiffened. "I...did not think you would remember that. You only woke up a handful of times, and you were always so delirious...I put you under again as soon as I realized...Suffice it to say that your immune system attempted to reject parts of my blood. Eventually, my blood won...but it took some time."

He...guessed that made sense. But it didn't make the memories go away...

"If it is any consolation for the...discomfort…" Khan continued with a smile. "You now have the immune system of an Augment. And a healing ability similar to my own. They are a part of you now, and will never dissipate. Of course, this also comes with a heightened metabolism and––"

"I know," Leonard said numbly. "I know all about those side–effects."

Khan huffed. "I suppose you would, given all that effort you went through to save your friend, Kirk. His odd vitals must have worried you for months."

"...Yeah."

But...that hadn't been the only thing that'd freaked him out about giving Jim that transfusion...and it wasn't what terrified him now.

"Am…" How was he supposed to ask this without pissing the guy off? "Am I gonna get...murdery?"

Thankfully, the killer laughed. "No more than you already are. The hyper–aggressive gene in Augment DNA does not always activate, and even when it does, it only impacts adolescent brain development. A man of your age is hardly likely to be affected."

...Saved by being an old fart...he'd take it.

"But what about––"

"Try not to overthink this, doctor," Khan rolled his eyes. "I have given you a gift humans have sought for millennia: a long, healthy life! Play your cards right, and both Kirk and yourself may even live as long as that damn Vulcan!"

Leonard tensed; his jaw set.

...Spock...

"Don't."

The killer raised an eyebrow. "Don't what?"

"You know what!" He seethed so he wouldn't start crying. "Don't talk about Spock like that! Wasn't killing him enough? Do ya really have ta––"

"I didn't."

The doctor felt his blood pressure skyrocket. "Bullshit! Even if the bomb didn't get him, Spock'd never leave the Enterprise before everyone else was––"

"The Enterprise is safe, McCoy. I did not kill any of your friends."

Leonard blinked.

Khan chuckled.

"Did you really think Kirk was stupid enough to beam to Xedna Eight from the Enterprise? He beamed down from a shuttle; left the Enterprise far out of harm's way. I blew up the shuttle out of spite, and allowed another shuttle to rescue him so he could deliver my message. No one was hurt in the explosion."

That...lying bastard.

"If that's true," The doctor worked hard to keep his voice level. "Then why didn't ya tell me that when I asked about survivors? Or when I asked about the bomb the first time? Or––"

"I did not understand you," the terrorist said plainly. "You were crying over your broken bones, and asking how many people my second bomb killed on Earth, and...although I am embarrassed to admit it...I mistook your question about the Enterprise to be about the shuttle. It was a simple miscommunication, and it was not until after your escape attempt, when I had a knife to your throat and all you could think of was your crew, that I realized what you'd truly meant. And by that point...there didn't seem to be a reason to correct you."

Was...was he telling the truth?

...Not a chance in Hell.

"You're lying."

Khan sighed. "Why would I do that, doctor? What possible purpose could––"

"You're tryin' ta manipulate me!" Leonard snapped. "Ya want something from me; ya need me ta treat someone, or record some new ransom tape or...I don't know what...but whatever it is, ya want me happy for it, and ya know the easiest way ta do that's ta––

"To lie to you?" Khan glared. "Once again, we come back to this point, so let us settle this now: name three outright lies I have told you during your captivity. Three statements I have made that proved to be completely false. Take your time."

The doctor opened his mouth...and stopped himself.

He...wasn't sure he could.

There was the thing way near the beginning, when the psycho impaled his own arm with a piece of metal and lied about how it got there...but even though that counted, the lie had been a test; Khan had even admitted the truth a moment later.

The bomb that killed Alston almost counted...but the terrorist had only said he wouldn't set off the bomb in Atlanta if Leonard admitted Joanna was his daughter. So that was still true...

And then Nitika's death...he'd been sure that was a lie. But Jim...Jim'd confirmed it. That idiot had actually...he'd hurt an innocent person, and Khan couldn't save her...

He could probably count the psycho's vow to butcher him and dump his body in space...but that wasn't something he wanted to remind the man of...and Khan had said that he'd changed his mind. It...hadn't been a lie when he'd said it.

...One.

He could only name one example of his captor lying to him outright in the past...forty six days.

"I...can't."

Khan grinned. "You see? I do not lie to you, because there is no need to lie. The truth is far more powerful...Which is why I swear: I did not blow up the Enterprise, and I did not kill any of its crew. You will never see your friends or family again, but they are alive and unharmed. I promise."

Something rolled down Leonard's cheek; he didn't even try to brush it away.

...They...they were alive. His friends; his family...

"...They're really alive?"

The killer nodded. "They are alive. And if you behave yourself, you can ensure they remain that way for a long, long time."

Instantly, the doctor's relief vanished.

"...What the hell does that mean?"

"Relax, McCoy," Khan shrugged. "I have simply decided to approach our interactions in a new way: one that I think you will like a bit more than our previous...arrangement."

...He didn't like this. Not one bit.

"Okay..." Leonard tried to smile. "And how are ya gonna do that?"

Khan smirked; loomed over him.

"Carrot and stick, doctor. The stick is...not really anything new. Just something made explicitly clear. However, your new incentives to behave––the carrot––I believe you will find refreshing."

...Sure.

"What's the carrot?"

"First, the stick." The killer scowled; leaned in. "I do not really care if you mouth off, or question my methods, or try to fight me every step of the way on something you do not want to do. I actually find those challenges...useful...from time to time. And I will try to tolerate them without resorting to violence. However, if you _ever_ attempt to escape again, even by taking your own life, I will turn that playground in Atlanta into a crater. Then, I will find a way onto the Enterprise, take Doctor Chapel as your replacement, and destroy the ship as I leave. And then, I will find your daughter, no matter where she has been spirited off to, and she will not see her thirteenth birthday. Do you understand?"

...Dear god...

Leonard felt the blood drain from his face.

"'Course I understand."

No escape attempts of any kind.

Not unless he wanted everyone he loved to die.

"Good," Khan's scowl faded; he smiled. " _Now_ , the carrot: if you make an effort to behave, your future will be quite pleasant. I will not hurt you again. Your friends and family will be off–limits from attack by myself or any member of my crew. You will even be able to earn privileges through compliance and good manners: choosing your own meals and clothing; various forms of entertainment; perhaps even a pet. And, when the time comes, you will be introduced to my people as an indispensable ally in our bid for freedom. You will be allowed to integrate into our society as a citizen; not a slave."

...What?

"You're messin' with me," the doctor blurted. "Ya'd never let––"

"Wouldn't I?" Khan grinned. "I used to be considered quite generous, McCoy; my fairness when dealing with former foes was known around the world. You are a skilled surgeon; familiar with technologies my people have never even heard of. Do you have any idea what an asset you could be to a fledgling colony?"

Leonard glared. "I don't wanna be part of your damn colony. I want––"

"To go home, I know," the Augment shook his head. "To see your daughter again; to journey through the stars with your plucky best friend and that stoic Vulcan. But that is not an option, and you know it. I am offering you a compromise: a chance to save yourself by helping to save an entire society. There is no telling what dangers our new home will contain, let alone the challenges we will have keeping our genetic diversity at safe levels. We need doctors, and you are one of the best I have ever seen."

...Was...was that an actual compliment? Not some backhanded, half–assed remark with derogatory undertones, but…

Oh, goddamnit!

It was manipulation. Pure, unadulterated flattery to manipulate him into cooperating; nothing else.

"...Go to hell."

Khan blinked; then picked up the water cup; held it out.

"I suspect after you have had something to eat, you will feel strong enough to stand, so I will go find you some food that will not upset your stomach. You _will_ eat all of it, and then you will walk to the bathroom, and clean yourself up. Then I will remove your chain and IV long enough for you to put on some real clothes...and if you do all of that without cursing at me...I may even return your ring."

Leonard's brow knitted; he looked at his left hand; then his right.

...His ring was gone.

"Give it back, Khan!" He tried not to sound desperate; failed. "Goddamnit, give it back!"

The killer snorted. "And with that, you have lost it for the rest of the day."

...No…

The doctor closed his eyes; tried to calm down.

It was just a ring. Just a stupid piece of metal. He didn't need it to ground him. He didn't…

"Take the cup, doctor."

Leonard opened his eyes. His captor was still holding the water out to him; still offering…

...He didn't really have a choice, did he?

It was either this, or...

He took the cup with an unsteady smile.

"...Thank you."

Khan smirked; stepped away. His eyes gleamed.

"You're welcome, McCoy."


	47. Chapter 47

Fifty–eight dead in Paris.

One hundred ninety–three wounded.

...All because of him.

All because he couldn't keep a cool head long enough to reason with that psychopath.

...No.

Jim carefully set his fresh mug of coffee on his desk; dropped into his office chair; shook his head.

He'd already had that conversation with M'Benga. The only thing that could've possibly stopped Khan from setting off that bomb would've been the return of one of his crew, and no matter how hard he tried, Starfleet Command refused to take the risk.

Over and over again, he'd begged them...and over and over again, they'd refused.

Because of that stubbornness, civilians were dead. People who'd never done anything to Khan or his people; who'd never even been a part of Starfleet.

...And now...after all that needless death...Khan was getting his way.

Jim leaned back; studied the pattern on his coffee mug. One of his favorites: a cheery cartoon duckling annoying a grumpy cartoon owl. He'd seen an old photograph like it, and couldn't resist having it made to tease Bones…

He sighed; set the mug down. There was a prickle of pain in the captain's right eye: the start of one of those stupid migraines. Before Khan's escape, he hadn't had a migraine since the transfusion...but apparently enough stress could still bring them on.

The captain picked up his PADD; started a new Log entry.

"Captain's Log. Stardate 2261.144...After a week of deliberations, the Federation Council has agreed to Khan's demands. They want this whole disaster over as quickly as possible."

He guessed there were too many critical eyes on their...questionable choices; their willingness to hold people indefinitely; without charge…

...This wasn't who they were supposed to be.

"We arrived at Starbase Eleven late last night. Apparently, they have been holding four of Khan's crew in their medical facility, studying the effects of long–term cryostasis on the human body."

Why nobody at Starfleet Command had bothered to send the five Augments that actually _needed_ medical care to that starbase instead of a black hole with was beyond him.

...It was probably Admiral Yearling's idea. Or Alston's. Or...who knew who's. Somebody with a lot more influence than morality, that was for sure.

"The USS Buran will rendezvous with us in a little under six hours. They have been tasked with retrieving the Augments previously kept on Starbase Twelve. Captain Lorca has assured me that there were no...incidents…with their transfer to the Buran's power supply, and that all five Augments are still in stable condition."

When briefed on his mission, Lorca had seemed a bit more...fascinated...by the idea of transporting potential supersoldiers than Jim was comfortable with...but he'd take tactical curiosity over that jackass Rowan's homicidal paranoia any day.

"From what I understand, the USS Shenzhou will also be meeting us in four days. Captain Georgiou's collecting another ten Augments from a handful of facilities along the Klingon Neutral Zone. After that...we'll be off to Xedna Eight."

Apparently the only other members of Khan's crew close enough to get there in time for the rendezvous were the three in medically-induced comas, but given their violent history, they were scheduled to be released last.

...Besides, if Khan kept his word, then releasing nineteen Augments would already be enough to stop eight bombs from detonating in two weeks...It was better to see what the terrorist did with these people before they released any more.

"I admit, I'm more than a little uneasy about this arrangement. If Khan truly just wants to protect his people...then this situation will be resolved soon...But if this is a ploy...if Khan wants to use his crew to carry out even more attacks...this could be far from over. I guess only time will tell whether this is a humanitarian achievement, or a tactical blunder...Kirk out."

Jim tossed the PADD onto the table; sighed.

In a few weeks...if Khan kept his part of the deal...he'd be able to see his best friend come safely home.

Hopefully it wouldn't be too late. Hopefully they'd be able to stop his xenopolycythemia before…

After all of this, Bo...Leonard...deserved more than to spend the rest of his life in a hospital bed.

The captain grabbed his coffee again. He shouldn't drink as much as he had been lately: with his migraines, Doctor M'Benga didn't want him drinking any at all...but he had a ship to run. And he couldn't do that if he fell asleep in the Captain's chair.

He lifted the mug to his lips; paused mid gulp as the comm system chimed.

"Captain?" Uhura's voice came over the intercom.

Jim sighed; pressed the comm button.

"What's up, Uhura?"

"I have a message coming in from New Vulcan. Ambassador Spock would like a word."

The captain's eyebrows shot up.

"Thanks, Uhura. Please send the transmission to my office."

"Yes, Captain."

Jim swiveled in his chair; pulled up the visual display screen.

A familiar face, wrinkled with time, flicked onto the screen.

"Ambassador Spock," The captain smiled. "It's good to see you."

"And you as well, Jim," the old Vulcan replied. "Although I wish I was contacting you under better circumstances."

Jim frowned. "What's wrong?"

"A contact of mine in the Federation Council has informed me of some of the details surrounding the explosion in Paris last week," Spock said grimly. "I assume the Enterprise has been charged with tracking down––"

A door behind Spock opened; a Vulcan girl who looked like she was about sixteen years old stepped into the room.

"Spock, I––"

Her eyes flicked to the screen; back at the Ambassador.

"Is this a bad time?"

The old Vulcan turned to her.

"It is...unfortunate timing, T'Nara," Spock admitted. "However, that is my own fault. I did not inform you that I was in a meeting."

"I will come back when––"

"There is no need: the interruption has already taken place. What would you like to discuss?"

The Vulcan teen raised an eyebrow; shifted slightly.

"Sevok and I would like to take the skimmer into New Kir tonight."

"Is there any particular reason?"

"A traveling acting troupe is performing the classic Human play, Angels in America, near the learning center," T'Nara said. "My brother and I believe it would be a...beneficial opportunity to learn about changes in Human culture."

"I see…" The Ambassador shot an amused glance at Jim. "You may take the skimmer. And please tell your brother that, as I am well aware he will wish to spend time...discussing the play...with T'Allus after the performance, your curfew will be extended to O-one-hundred hours."

It might've been the captain's imagination, but he could have sworn the girl smirked.

"Yes, Spock. I will tell him immediately."

The young Vulcan turned stiffly; walked out of the room.

"Um…" Jim blurted awkwardly as Spock turned back to him. "Who was that?"

"T'Nara, my new foster daughter," the Ambassador explained. "Approximately five months ago, I made the decision to take in two Vulcan orphans with...emotional difficulties. Her twin brother, Sevok, is just as...spirited...as she is."

The captain blinked as his brain tried to process this new information; snorted. "I've gotta admit, Spock, I'm surprised. I didn't see you adopting a pair of moody teenagers."

The old Vulcan's eyes closed for a moment; opened. "Many families were torn apart when Nero destroyed Vulcan, and the emotional repercussions have severely impacted the surviving children. The biological parents of the twins placed them on an evacuation ship; then stayed behind in order to allow more children a chance to escape. As their ship launched, T'Nara and Sevok watched the ground their parents stood upon crumble away."

...Oh.

"Their initial three foster families found the twins'...highly emotional...outbursts to be too problematic to manage," Spock continued. "However, I am hopeful that my one hundred and sixty years of experience in balancing Human emotions with Vulcan logic will help T'Nara and Sevok find their way."

Jim smiled sadly. "I'm sure you're a great dad."

The Ambassador gave a restrained smile in return. "Thank you, Jim...Now, I am afraid that I need to redirect this conversation back to its initial purpose. I want to help in any way I can."

Right...it wasn't just a social call.

"Alright...what did your contact tell you?"

"That Khan Noonien Singh escaped the facility he was being held in, and orchestrated an attempt on the lives of members of the Federation Council, as well as the President of the Federation," Spock replied. "My contact said the bomb in Paris was across from the President's offices; that Khan hoped to kill her, and throw the Federation into chaos."

...Well...that explained why the Federation Council _finally_ moved the butts on the Augments' release. They thought Khan was gunning for them.

Apparently civilian lives, or the lives of Starfleet officers, didn't make them care. But their own lives...Of course.

"It's...it's worse than that, Spock." Jim said stiffly. "Khan murdered everyone in the facility where he was being held, and he's massacred three more outposts that we know of. He's demanded the release of his crew, or he is going to set off even more bombs. He also...blew up a chunk of the USS Archer...and we were forced to put our shields down to rescue the survivors. He used that short window of opportunity to beam onto the Enterprise...and kidnap B...Doctor Leonard McCoy. He's...had him for about forty-seven days now."

Spock's eyebrows arched; unfiltered shock and concern crossed over his face for a moment before he reigned his features back in.

"...I see. And how have you been coping with this, Jim?"

The captain shifted. "It's been...rough. Spock's been...I mean, my timeline's Spock...he's been really great. Pretty much the only reason I've been able to keep it together at all."

If it wasn't for Spock's insistence that he go to Doctor M'Benga, he'd probably've had his ass 121'd after seeing what Khan had done to Bo...to Leonard.

He still felt like he was about one bad salad away from a nervous breakdown, but at least he was managing to get a little sleep.

"That is...understandable." The Ambassador closed his eyes; opened them. "Jim, when we are done here, please ask my younger counterpart to contact me. I counted my own Leonard McCoy as one of my two closest friends...and from what I have seen over the past three years, the development of that friendship has only been accelerated in this timeline. This...cannot be easy for him to process either."

"...It hasn't been," Jim agreed. "I'm sure he'll appreciate any help you can give."

"Have you…Do you know if Doctor McCoy is being treated well? Has Khan given you any indication of his condition?"

The captain's mind sent him flashes of the week before.

" _Remember what happens when someone forces my hand."_

 _Oh god, no!_

 _Arms aren't supposed to bend there!_

 _His best friend is screaming!_

" _This man has been suffering for your mistakes…"_

 _Stop petting him, you psychopath!_

" _I will admit, breaking you like I have broken your friend would be...satisfying…"_

Jim shuddered.

"I...don't think he could be treated much worse."

"...I see," Spock said quietly. "Jim...Leonard McCoy is easily the most stubborn, and the most resilient, soul I have ever encountered. If anyone could find a way to survive in Khan's captivity, it would be him."

The captain took a deep breath; blinked rapidly a few times to clear the mist from his eyes.

"You don't understand, Spock...You don't know what Khan's done to him. Even if we somehow rescued Bo...Leonard right this minute, I...I'm not sure he can recover from this."

"I understand your fears, Jim," the old Vulcan said. "The toll of a captivity the likes of which you are alluding to can be...catastrophic. But I assure you, if your version of Leonard McCoy is anything like my own, then any potential...survival techniques...that Leonard may have been forced to adopt can be overcome with enough time, therapy, and support, once he is safe again."

"It's not just psychological trauma that I'm talking about." Although the thought of what Khan was doing to Bones' head terrified Jim more than he was willing to admit. "There's...he's...Leonard's developed a disorder while in captivity. Something called...xenopolycythemia. If he doesn't get surgery within the next month and a half...he'll be dead within a year."

The old Vulcan tensed; straightened; looked away.

"...That…" Spock hesitated; shook his head. "That was not supposed to happen for another seven years. Something must have accelerated its development."

...Wait...

Jim clenched his fists.

"You...you knew he was going to get this? You knew Bones had some incurable disease, and you didn't tell us?"

"It is not that simple, Jim." The corners of the ambassador's mouth twitched downward. "Xenopolycythemia has a genetic component, yes, but that is not the only factor in its development. The Leonard McCoy you know, and the one I called a friend for...a long time...were both born six years before Nero arrived in your timeline. Logically, up until the age of six, the events of their lives were exactly the same...But six years is nothing when stacked against the twenty-eight years of differing experiences this timeline's McCoy has had from mine so far. There was no way for me to tell whether or not these changes would still lead to the gene being activated. Telling him, or you for that matter, about the disease before I was certain it would be an issue would only have caused you both a great deal of alarm."

...He guessed that made sense, from a time-travelling Vulcan's perspective.

"Alright...fine," Jim sighed. "Well, now we know: it's an issue. So will you please tell me if there's a cure? Something that hasn't been found yet?"

If there was a cure, and if he could just get Bones back, he'd search for it as long as it took. A chemical, or a gene therapy, or that psychedelic puffball Sulu had in an airtight cannister in the hydroponics lab: whatever it was, he would find it.

And, if he had to, the captain could put his friend in a cryotube to keep him stable until they found it; thaw him out when they were able to save his life.

...Even if it took him twenty years; even if he had to give up his ship to go find it...he'd save his friend.

He owed it to him.

The Vulcan appeared to be lost in thought; finally, he nodded.

"...There is a cure. One that I found in my timeline...seven years from now...but given what you have told me, I believe that immediately releasing the formula for the cure...and a few related details about its creators...will do far less damage to the timeline than withholding the information for another seven years. After I speak with my younger self, I will contact Starfleet Medical."

Jim felt himself relax a little; he smiled. "Thank you, Spock. You don't know what this means to me."

"Trust me when I say that I do," the Ambassador raised a cryptic eyebrow. "I...cannot begin to explain how important Leonard McCoy is supposed to be to your life; to the life of my younger counterpart; to the next hund...to the future of medical advancements."

...Had Spock been about to say "the next _hundred years_ " of medical advancements?

The captain got a sudden flash of an old, wrinkly version of his best friend, scowling into a microscope at some unidentified disease; lovingly grumping generations of Academy med students into brilliant doctors and nurses.

...It would be a good look on him.

If they could make it happen.

"Spock, please, do you have any idea how to make Khan give him back?" Jim implored. "Because I'm telling you that right now, Khan doesn't plan to let him go. Even beyond the sick pleasure he seems to take in hurting B...Leonard...Khan thinks we're a threat to his people. If there's even a slight chance Leonard's figured out where they plan to hide, Khan won't put his crew at risk."

"And that means Doctor McCoy's freedom depends upon convincing Khan that it is actually in his best interest to settle his people on a known habitable world within Federation space," the Ambassador continued the thought. "Khan is a volatile man...however, in my timeline...he did once agree to a...similar...form of exile. If you think it might help, I can give you a list of suitable worlds. New Vulcan was only one of several promising planets we looked at for colonization; any of the others would suffice, if Khan can be convinced that it is the more logical long-term solution to ensuring his people's survival."

The pricks of pain behind the captain's eyes flared up again. He winced; pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's a good idea, Spock…but we already tried to make that deal, and Khan turned us down. Twice. We offered to let his people colonize a planet in the Ceti Alpha system if he––"

" _What_?"

Jim paused with a frown.

Ambassador Spock's eyebrows were deep into his bangs.

"...We told him they could colonize a planet called Ceti Alpha V." The captain repeated. "The planet's pretty wild, and a little close to Klingon space, but if Khan's people are half as tough a he is, they should be––"

"You cannot be serious."

Jim frowned. "Spock, you just said it was a good plan. And we can't just keep them on ice forever. Eventually, something's gotta give."

The ambassador stared at him for a moment; took a deep breath.

"...Captain...I want to ensure there are no...misunderstandings...between us before we continue this conversation."

A knot formed in his stomach. Something was wrong. Really wrong...and he was pretty sure he wouldn't like where this was going.

"...Sure, Spock. What's on your mind?"

The old Vulcan's eyes looked...sad.

"What do you know about Ceti Alpha V?"

Jim thought through the report he'd been given; shrugged. "It's the fifth planet in the Ceti Alpha system. M–Class. Supports a couple larger animal species, like a bison–esque herbivore and a tiger–y predator. It's got plenty of raw resources to support a colony, but it's remote enough that it'd be hard for the Augments to lure a ship to their position. Especially if we put a warning beacon up. It's just on our side of the Klingon Neutral Zone...The President of the Federation's signed off on it, if you're worried I'm offering up deals without permission."

Ambassador Spock studied him; then his eyebrows lowered; he sighed.

"You truly don't know. You did not...you don't know."

...That was definitely not a good sign.

"What don't I know, Spock?"

"...Jim," the Vulcan shook his head. "The appearance of Nero's ship, and my own, in your timeline, have altered the future far more drastically than I first anticipated. There are key events in Federation history...even an entire war...that have not come to pass. Millions who died in my timeline are alive and well in yours...and the reverse is also true. That is why I do not divulge information about the future lightly. It is too easy to misinterpret; too easy to create conflicts where none need arise."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, we just went over all that."

Well...not the war part. Hopefully he could convince the Ambassador to circle back to that later. Because that sounded...kind of important.

"But there are certain events––certain naturally occurring phenomena––that will take place regardless of any external changes," Spock continued. "I have used my knowledge of these events to stave off several potential disasters caused by the alterations to this timeline...And one of the most notable instances of my...interference...was to inform the Vulcan High Council of the fate that awaits the first planet they chose for resettlement: Ceti Alpha V."

The captain's eyes went wide.

"...What are you talking about?"

The ambassador's face was grim. "In approximately six years, Ceti Alpha V's closest neighbor, Ceti Alpha VI, will explode."

...No...

"How...how is that even possible?"

"There was some debate in my time as to whether this was caused by an instability in the planet's core, or a microscopic black hole passing through the planet," Ambassador Spock said. "In either case, the explosion will drastically change Ceti Alpha V. Pieces of the destroyed planet will rain down, wiping out most of Ceti Alpha V's indigenous life. Its orbit will shift closer to its sun, turning most of the planet into a desert. Ceti Alpha V is completely unsuitable for colonization."

Jim realized his mouth was open; closed it.

"...The Vulcan High Council knows about this?"

The ambassador nodded. "And I am certain they relayed the information to the Federation Council as well...as well as the President of the Federation."

The captain tasted bile; his mind reeled at the unspoken accusation.

...They knew.

The President of the Federation; the entire Federation Council...they all knew that anyone who tried to colonize Ceti Alpha V would die.

And they told him to offer that planet to the Augments.

"Spock…I...I swear, I had no idea. I never would have...Oh god, what am I gonna do?"

Ambassador Spock's mouth became a tight line.

"You say Khan rejected the deal, correct?"

Jim quickly nodded.

"Yeah, twice."

"...Then do nothing."

He stared.

"But I can't let them get away with this! This is–"

"We cannot accuse the leaders of the Federation of attempted genocide without proof," Spock interrupted. "We do not yet know if such proof exists…It is best if I make the inquiries; contact a few trusted acquaintances who may be able to help."

"I can talk to the admirals; see if––"

"Jim, please let me handle this," the ambassador pleaded. "I have no intention of allowing this crime to go unpunished...but I also will not allow you to sacrifice your career, or possibly even your freedom or life, for the sake of Khan Noonien Singh and his followers. Not when I can investigate this travesty with far less risk."

The captain clenched his jaw; rubbed the space between his eyes to ease his growing migraine.

...As much as he hated to admit it...Without physical evidence to support their suspicions, there was nothing they could do. What was the word of a young captain, or even the word of a single ambassador––one not even from this timeline––compared to that of the President of the Federation and the entire Federation Council?

And even if the evidence did exist, Jim had no way to find it. He didn't have the contacts; didn't have a clue where to start investigating political intrigue. And with their new deadline, he needed to focus on his mission. To make sure the Augments made it safely to...

...Oh god...what if the cryotubes had been sabotaged? What if this whole capitulation was just a ruse to take out all of the Augments without it seeming like the Federation was responsible?

...He needed to tell Scotty, M'Benga and Chapel to run another set of scans on all of the Augments and their cryotubes. They couldn't let anything happen to them.

...Ambassador Spock was right.

Jim already had his hands full.

"...Alright, Spock," the young captain nodded. "I'll let you deal with the political stuff. Just please, be careful."

"I will do my best, Jim." The ambassador paused. "...I suggest you restrict access to the content of this discussion. If asked, you could say the conversation turned to personal matters that you were...embarrassed to have in the official logs."

Jim couldn't help a snort. "They might not believe that. I don't really get embarrassed."

Ambassador Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Jim, Vulcan mind melds are...complicated. When I showed you what happened in my timeline three years ago, I also caught glimpses of your life. It is why I know beyond a doubt that, despite your altered upbringing, you still share the qualities that made my Jim an exemplary captain...and it is also why I know that, once again like my Jim...there are quite a few things that embarrass you."

"...Huh."

...Crap.

...Actually...that could be useful. Awkward...but useful.

The captain shuffled his feet.

"...Lying outright to the admirals could come back to bite us if we end up needing their help...So...for the sake of having a good, non–potentially–career–ending reason to put this conversation in my sealed correspondence files...got anything embarrassing you'd like to ask me?"

The corner of the Vulcan's mouth twitched upwards. There was a little bit of pride in Spock's eyes; and more than a little mirth.

"Alright, Jim...Would you care to explain why, during our meld, I saw you wriggling your way across the Starfleet Academy campus, wearing what appeared to be a highly accurate, human–sized replica of a Regulan bloodworm?"

Jim's face turned red.

That would work.

"It's...a long story."


	48. Chapter 48

"Um...Khan?"

Khan glanced over at his captive as they walked through a corridor on the Botany Bay.

"What is it?"

"Are...are ya ever gonna let me shave again?"

The killer frowned.

What about their little walk had led the doctor to that question?

"I shaved you a few hours before you regained your senses; that was only two days ago."

"Yeah...and this stubble already itches like a swarm of fire ants," McCoy muttered his complaint. "Look, I'm not askin' for you to play barber again: just let me have a razor, or some hair–dissolving gel, and I'll do the rest. Please."

Khan considered this for a moment; shook his head. "I prefer you with a beard, McCoy. It made you look less like a straight–laced Starfleet officer. Believe me when I say that is a good thing...I would like for you to grow it out again."

"So, what?" the doctor huffed. "I don't get a vote on my own facial hair?"

"Not yet, at least. Perhaps that is a privilege you can earn."

"Goddamnit, Khan! It's my own face! Deciding what's on it's not a privilege: it's a right!"

The killer stopped mid–stride; turned to his captive, eyebrow raised.

A flash of fear on McCoy face quickly morphed into a glare...and finally a grimace.

"I'm not gettin' my ring back, am I?"

"Ask again in three days."

"...Fantastic."

The Augment turned; continued down the corridor. The doctor followed a few steps behind him.

"...Khan?"

"Yes, doctor?"

"...Would ya mind tellin' me where we're going? Please."

Khan smirked. The line between having a civil disagreement and flinging curses was not something the doctor was proficient at traversing...however, McCoy was at least making an effort to learn the new rules of their arrangement.

"I am taking you to the main cargo bay for some...new...clothes."

He could practically hear the doctor's doubletake.

"Uh huh...And what brought this on?"

...In truth, there were a variety of reasons the Augment had chosen to change his captive's wardrobe: boredom; the doctor's reward for being...decently...well behaved the past two days...and for McCoy's own protection...from both Khan, and his people.

The Augments came from a time of worldwide warfare: governments rose and fell so quickly near the end that it was difficult to keep track of who controlled which armies...and they would not trust a strange, Southern United States–dialected man in an unknown uniform.

...Just as they would distrust a...British...man claiming to be their leader...no matter what he wore.

He had a few potential solutions to that problem...but each came with their own risks...and sacrifices.

Regardless, if McCoy was to assimilate safely; to provide their colony with the latest in medical procedures...the other Augments needed to consider the man a coerced doctor instead of a captured officer. And that meant supplying him with his own, small, wardrobe of non–Starfleet clothing.

Instead of providing his captive with the full explanation, Khan chuckled.

"Doctor, do you how boring it is to see you wear nothing but blue? I know that in recent years I personally have leaned heavily towards black and grey: they show far less wear; far less...gore...but even those garments have some variation to them. You, however, wear the same monotonous shade of blue science uniform every day...And besides, it is past time you stopped wearing the uniform of our enemy."

"...Right."

They reached a large door a floor below the main airlock; Khan led his captive inside.

Metal crates of various sizes were stacked against the left, right, and back wall of the storage bay. The Augment crossed to a pair of large crates in the back right corner; turned back to see the doctor fidgeting by the door.

"Come along, McCoy."

His captive obediently came to his side; the sound of his bare feet hitting partially–rusted metal seemed louder than normal in the echoey room.

...Perhaps he could allow the man some new socks as well...however that would also increase McCoy's odds of slipping on the metal floors.

...Shirts and trousers would do for now.

When Khan raided Xedna Eight, and the first two bases in his ill–fated rescue operation, he took every article of civilian clothing he could find...but he was certain it would not be enough to clothe his entire civilization for long. Excluding the plethora of Starfleet uniforms of various iterations, he had stolen the wardrobes of approximately forty–three people.

Given the random sizes at his disposal, the division of the civilian clothes would be uneven at first; some of his crew would have to make–do with hideous Starfleet smocks until they could fashion their own garments.

...But not McCoy. He would never be safe in that uniform.

Khan opened a crate; spotted a button–up shirt woven from a metallic, golden fabric. It was a bit...loud...but it was in the doctor's general size...and unless he could make that stolen replicating technology work properly, they would not have access to customized formal wear for a long time. Loud would likely have to do.

"Here, doctor," he tossed the garment to his captive. "Try this on."

McCoy caught it; gave his captor a funny look.

"...'Fore I say this, I wanna remind you that you've told me not to keep things from ya."

The killer raised an amused eyebrow.

"I have. Please, continue."

The doctor looked down at the shirt; sighed.

"Well...I...um...This is absolutely hideous. If I have ta wear this every day, I'm gonna end up gouging my eyes out."

Khan chuckled. "I do not intend for you to wear it constantly. If it fits, it would be formal attire: something to wear to celebrations; weddings. There will be plenty of those, once my people are free."

McCoy's head snapped up; his brow pinched with worry.

"Khan…You're not gonna...force me ta get married, are you? I know you don't have a lot of people to start a colony, but––"

"I doubt that will be an issue," Khan remarked. "Your status as a non–fully Augmented male makes you an unlikely choice for a women in my crew...In event one of them _does_ desire you...and you her...I will officiate. But I will not...inflict...a marriage upon you which you do not want."

Especially as there were only twenty–eight women left among sixty–nine colonists. The potentially...horrific...implications of a forced marriage aside, it would be seen as an egregious slight to marry off the doctor when there were still unwed Augment males desiring brides.

The doctor relaxed; gave him a small smile. "...Okay. Good ta know...Thanks."

"You're welcome, McCoy." The Augment pointed to the shirt. "Now, see if that fits. I do not want to sift through clothing all day...although I am interested to see what you choose."

McCoy blinked. "What I choose?"

"Of course. I would not want you to 'gouge your eyes out,' as you threatened. After you try on the dress shirt, you may choose whatever else you wish to wear."

The doctor tensed again; he looked at the floor.

"Then...if it's all the same to you...I'd like ta stay in uniform."

Khan chuckled. "I will admit, it is encouraging to hear you attempt to make jokes."

McCoy shook his head.

"I'm not joking, Khan. If you're really lettin' me pick, then I might switch it up with a white medical dress uniform every now and then...but in general, I'll stick with my blues."

The killer's brow furrowed in confusion.

Why would the man _want_ to keep wearing those blue potato sacks? Was the doctor deliberately trying to frustrate him? To test the limits of their new arrangement?

...Or was this some lingering hope of rescue?

It was understandable...However, he would have to let go eventually.

"McCoy...you are not a member of Starfleet anymore. It is time for you to accept that. Donning civilian clothes will help you adjust...so I must insist."

"Look, I'm _not_ Starfleet's biggest fan," the doctor clarified. "Not after what they did ta Nitika. I just...You said I got ta pick...and I'd prefer ta keep my uniform."

Khan scowled. "And yet, doctor, you have not explained why."

McCoy grimaced; toyed with the shimmering fabric in his hands.

"...Don't you realize how wrong this is?"

The killer raised an eyebrow. "How wrong what is?"

" _This._ " The doctor gestured to the shirt. "When I'm wearin' a uniform, I can at least tell myself that it might've come from a general supply bin, 'stead of some poor bastard's personal wardrobe...But I know for _a_ _fact_ that you murdered this shirt's owner! I...I can't wear this."

...He could not be serious.

...This was McCoy.

Khan scoffed. "Doctor, do you have any idea of the logistics involved in establishing a sustainable colony with sixty–nine founding members? Food. Shelter. Tools. I will need every scrap of cloth I have salvaged, and then some, and I do not have the luxury of abandoning perfectly good materials because their former owners are dead."

" _Dead's_ not the issue," McCoy insisted. "If these were hand–me–downs from a dead relative of yours, I'd be confused as ta how they held up this well for hundreds of years, but I'd wear 'em without a fuss. It's the _murder_ part that I've got a problem with. Who did ya kill for this? A doctor? A guard? And why did they have this eyesore? Was this their favorite party shirt, or was this somethin' somebody gave 'em for a birthday, and they didn't have the heart ta get rid of? You can't just strip people's lives for parts, and then expect me to––"

"I _expect_ you to be grateful that I have allowed you _any_ new clothes at all," the killer growled. "Imagine how miserable you would be if you still wore the Starfleet uniform I captured you in: imagine the tattered fabric; the bloodstains; the stench of sweat and terror that would never leave the material, no matter how many times you tried to wash it. Stop complaining, and try on the shirt."

The doctor swallowed. "Look, I am...grateful...but what's the harm in lettin' me wear uniforms? It's not like you're runnin' out, and I'd feel a whole lot better ab––"

"NOW!"

McCoy jumped; fumbled with the buttons.

"Fine," the doctor muttered. "Ya wanna play dress–up, I'll play dress–up. Not like ya haven't taken everything else from me: now my uniform's gotta go t––"

Khan grabbed his captive by the throat.

The man tensed; his eyes flicked rapidly between outrage and fear.

...It would be so easy. Just one powerful squeeze, and that defiant––

"Knew it was bullshit."

The killer tilted his head.

"What?"

"' _I will not hurt you again_ ,'" McCoy said quietly; snorted. "People don't stop bein' abusive assholes with the flip of a switch. I'll be honest, I thought the honeymoon period would last a little longer than this; that I might actually get a few days of peace before ya started in again...but I guess I underestimated just how much ya like hurting me."

Khan scowled.

"I do not _enjoy_ hurting––"

"And yet your goddamn hand's 'round my throat!"

The killer raised a fist.

McCoy flinched; his face scrunched in anticipation of the blow.

Khan froze; his eyes went wide.

...What was he doing? He had vowed not to…

Old habits are difficult to break.

This...This was why he had kept the doctor alive: to test him; to force him away from these violent patterns...before he hurt people he cared about.

Khan lowered his fist; released his captive's throat.

McCoy took a step back; touched his neck, still clutching the golden garment in a white–knuckled grip.

The killer sighed; held out a hand.

"Give it here, doctor. If you hate the shirt that much, we will keep looking."

The doctor looked warily at his captor...and cautiously complied.

Khan gestured towards the open container.

"Go on. Choose what you want."

McCoy glared.

"So you're just gonna ignore the real reason I don't wanna wear that stuff?"

The killer's right hand twitched.

Perhaps just one solid...

No.

Patience. Restraint. Tact. Fairness.

He _would_ become a reasonable leader once again.

"Alright, McCoy," Khan deliberately softened his tone. "I...understand...why you are uncomfortable. But allow me to share my point of view: your uniform is a constant reminder of an organization that mutilated me, enslaved me, and has repeatedly threatened the lives of my family. If you are willing to remove it; to ever–so–slightly distance yourself from Starfleet, my promise not to harm you will be far easier to keep. And despite what you think, I _would_ like to keep that promise. So, kindly pick _something_ you can stomach wearing, or I will pick for you."

The doctor's angry expression wavered. He looked at the floor; ran a hand through his hair; finally let out a long sigh.

"...How much stuff do ya want me ta take?"

...At last.

Khan smiled. "For the moment, select one pair of trousers, and three tops of varying degrees of warmth. In two days, if you have behaved, I will allow you to choose a few more items."

"...Okay. Fair enough. I'll...um..."

McCoy crossed to the crates; after what felt like an eternity of rummaging, he pulled out an olive–colored jacket, a dark grey t–shirt, a navy button–up, and a pair of dark blue jeans.

"...Are these okay?"

Khan nodded. "If they fit, they are yours."

"Great." The doctor glanced around the room; his frown returned. "Is there a...um...bathroom or somethin' nearby?"

The killer raised an eyebrow. "Really, McCoy? Modesty? I cared for your unconscious form for six days: do you really think there's anything I haven't seen?"

His captive paled.

"...Khan...You've _always_ let me change behind a closed door. It's one of the most decent things about you. I...get...that the whole medical care stuff might've...desensitized...you a bit...but I swear to God: if ya don't at least turn around––"

"Please, doctor," the terrorist huffed. "There is no need to work yourself into another fit. I was simply teasing you."

"Well, it's not freakin' funny!" McCoy's voice shook. "Maybe _'jokes'_ like that were considered funny in your time, but in _this_ century, and 'specially in a situation _like_ _this_ , it's just...just...please don't make jokes 'bout that kinda stuff. Please."

A pang of guilt made its presence known in Khan's stomach; refused to be ignored.

...The doctor was truly rattled.

It was only supposed to be a bit of off–color humor...and yet...

"...Alright, McCoy. I apologize. Give me one moment..."

The Augment crossed to one of the taller stacks of storage crates against the right wall; dragged them out a few feet. He checked that the new hidden space was large enough for a person to maneuver in; then walked back to his captive.

"Change behind those."

The doctor's shoulders relaxed.

"...Thank you."

"Go."

McCoy hurried into the makeshift alcove; out of sight.

As he waited, Khan tossed the gilded shirt back into the open crate; rummaged around a little more. It was all so...chaotic. Perhaps the next task he could assign to the doctor would be to sort their supplies more thoroughly: clothing by size; PADDs by topic; food by shelf life––

"Pants fit."

Khan paused; rolled his eyes.

"Good."

...Yes. His captive might enjoy those tasks...eventually. Until then, Khan could spur their completion with incentives: allow McCoy to borrow any interesting PADDs he found while working; give the man another increase in his food rations; bring an actual chair into the med––

A shrill alarm suddenly blared through the ship's ancient speakers.

Khan tensed; heard a shriek from behind the crates; followed by a thud.

McCoy stumbled out, wide–eyed. His navy button–up was still half–open.

"What on God's Green Earth is that?!"

The Augment spun towards the door.

"Follow me, doctor. Now."

He jogged swiftly through the corridors; his captive's breathless calls for him to "wait up" were the only thing that kept him from breaking into a dead sprint.

...Perhaps he should allow the man opportunities for aerobic exercise: McCoy would never match Khan's speed, but it _would_ keep him from panting his way through another emergency.

They reached the bridge; Khan rushed to the sensor panel. He switched off the annoying alarm; read the incoming data.

There was a ship approaching their system; based on its configuration, it could only be––

"Jesus...Christ," McCoy gasped from the doorway. "Not...recovered...enough...for this...crap."

The Augment ignored him; crossed to the device he had so painstakingly finished; crouched to its display. This was not the first time the device's practicality had been tested in the past week, but that did not mean he could trust it to be working properly.

...Fortunately, it was.

...And as long as it held, they would be safe.

He heard the soft pat of bare feet on metal; the doctor's still somewhat–labored breath drew closer.

"Khan...what the hell...is goin' on? What is that...thing?"

The killer rose; turned to his captive.

" _This_ , doctor, is the reason the Botany Bay is still in one piece."

"Whaddaya mean? What's it do?"

"You will understand in a moment." Khan's mouth pressed into a thin line. He did not relish this conversation...no matter how necessary it was. "But first, I feel I should warn you of an...amendment...to my vow."

Apprehension washed over McCoy's features; his lip twitched into a sneer.

"...Uh–huh...and what's this…'amendment?' I ask too many questions, and ya get ta knock out a tooth? Is that what you––"

"No, doctor...Nothing that that vague. Listen carefully, because I mean every word: if you tamper with this device––if you so much as lay a finger on it to rub away a smudge––you will lose a hand. And hands do not grow back, no matter how much of my blood is flowing through your veins."

His captive's face lost its color for the second time that afternoon.

"Do you understand me, doctor?"

"Yeah...I do. I swear, I won't go near it."

"Good. Now come with me. You will want to see this."

He guided McCoy to the viewing window at the other end of the room; watched the man's fearful expression morph into confusion.

It was an appropriate reaction: the last time the doctor had been on the bridge, they had been on the surface of a desolate moon.

Now that yellow–sanded rock was hundreds of thousands kilometers away; a waxen disk in the night sky. The other moon––the home which McCoy had so desperately denied them––was now only a few thousand kilometers beneath them.

"You launched the ship?"

Khan snorted. "I would hope that was obvious. The thrusters worked quite well: they are not powerful enough to take us out of the system, but they have provided us with a stable orbit."

From their current location, Khan could just make out a series of large rivers shooting out from a mountain range in the middle of a vast continent. The moon was simply teeming with raw, untapped potential. Perhaps...

No. There were other options. Ones that had not been compromised.

The deep space telemetry he had been sifting though had provided him with a few alternative locations for his colony. None of them shared this moon's unique magnetic field...however, as stealing a warp–capable ship to deliver all of their provisions and personnel to their new home would draw far too much unwanted attention, Khan would need to be able to use his personal transporter. And after that, they could keep themselves hidden with––

"When did ya do this? I don't remember––"

"Of course you don't," Khan said. "Your foolhardy distress call forced me to launch immediately after I put you to sleep. We were far too exposed."

"And _this_ isn't exposed?" McCoy huffed. "We're runnin' laps 'round the only habitable rock in the system: if anything, we're more exposed than we were before."

"That, McCoy, is where you are wrong." A small flash of light near the yellow moon caught his attention. "Look, doctor: your 'rescue party' has arrived."

His captive followed his gaze; squinted; frowned.

"...If you say so."

Khan chuckled. "Ah, yes, I forgot: your eyesight is not as developed as mine. Here…"

The Augment pulled a PADD from his coat. It was an aide for himself as well as for the doctor...but there was no reason McCoy needed to know that. He turned on the video feature; increased its magnification a hundredfold; angled it so they could both see the yellow moon in the center of the screen; quickly spotted what he was looking for.

"Just above our old refuge, and to the left."

Khan studied his captive's face; pinpointed the exact moment the doctor saw what his pleas for help had brought to them.

"Oh my god!" McCoy turned to him in a panic. "It's Klingons! We've gotta get outta here!"

The Augment raised an eyebrow. "I thought becoming a political prisoner of their empire was preferable to my company, doctor. That is what you said in your distress call, if my memory serves. I saved the recording, if you need a reminder of––"

"Now's not the goddamn time!" The doctor begged. "Look, I know we've put a lot of work into this ship, and ya've got a lot of supplies here, but this ain't even a fight! They're gonna blow this ship outta the sky, and I'd like ta be far away from it when they do."

"Trust me, doctor: they will not destroy the Botany Bay."

"Are you kiddin' me?!" McCoy gaped at him; pointed excitedly at the screen. "Khan, that's a freakin' fully–armed Klingon Bird of Prey! We're a goddamn lifeboat! Did ya ever even strap weapons ta this thing?"

...This...was actually a bit fun.

Khan shrugged; tried not to smile.

"I realized that there was no need."

"NO NEED?!" It truly was easy to wind the man up. "My god, man! Have you completely lost your mind? Wake up! That ain't a windmill, Don Quixote! That giant out there _will_ kill us!"

Another interesting use of a literary metaphor...albeit a bit reversed to fit his meaning.

"I do not deny their ship is more formidable than ours, doctor. However, there is something you have not taken into account."

"And what the hell is that?"

"They cannot attack us if they do not know we are here."

"Of course they know we're here! We're a shiny tin can orbiting a––"

"No, doctor: they believe they are the only ship in the system. Otherwise, they would be approaching our position, would they not?"

McCoy opened his mouth to protest again; hesitated. He turned back to the PADD; finally seemed to realize that the Klingon ship had established an orbit around the yellow moon.

"...H...How?"

Khan grinned; pointed to the device he had carefully wired into the ship's power supply.

"A cloak. Mostly Federation–designed...but with a few of my own final adjustments. The Klingons cannot see us on visual scans; nor via computerized sensor sweeps; and our proximity to this moon's odd magnetic field masks our energy signature. We are completely invisible to them."

The doctor stared at the device; then back to Khan.

"If we're really invisible, then why did ya bother to launch? Couldn't we have just stayed where we were?"

...A decent question...but it oversimplified the situation

"Because there was a large hole where the Botany Bay rested; a small pile of sand had drifted over some of the lower regions of the ship. It was an obvious anomaly to anyone searching for the source of your distress call...Not to mention, again, that our energy signature is only fully masked because of our proximity to the home you stole from my people."

"...Oh."

Finally appearing to realize that they were not about to die, McCoy relaxed slightly; studied the PADD again.

"So, what? Are they just scannin' the hole we left behind, tryin' ta figure out what was there?"

"Not exactly," Khan said. "They are likely attempting to identify the source of a small energy signature which was not on that moon five days ago, when they searched the system for us the first time."

The doctor's brow furrowed. "...What energy signature? What did you do?"

"I placed a proximity–activated bomb on the moon's surface, two days after their first visit. It is not powerful to reach their ship...however is should still be quite a show."

McCoy gaped again. "Why in god's name would you do that?"

Khan smiled wryly. "You forget, doctor: before my memories returned, I was used as a Federation operative against the Klingon Empire. I studied their warrior's code extensively; learned whatever I could about their reactions to various tactical situations. The Klingons will not stop searching this system until they find some explanation for your distress signal. I encased the bomb in a metal enclosure roughly the size and shape of a shuttle, and left a few other bits of scrap technologies inside the enclosure to give the illusion of a working ship. I also built the entire structure over the site where I disposed of the pilot's body. At this moment, the Klingon tactical officer will likely be telling their captain that life support gave out on the 'shuttle,' and that whomever sent the distress signal is dead."

"So you're fakin' our deaths with a pile of scrap metal?" The doctor was obviously still confused. "Then why would ya bother to plant a bomb?"

"Because if they decide to raid the 'shuttle' for the technologies I left behind, it will become clear that it _is_ a 'pile of scrap metal,'" Khan said. "However, a sudden 'power surge' in the 'shuttle's systems,' resulting in an explosion will prevent that discovery. Of course, the Klingons will not understand the cause of the detonation, and what they do not understand, they see as a threat. And when something is a threat…"

A mushroom of fire ballooned across the surface of the yellow moon.

The Klingons immediately opened fire; continued to shoot until half the sand–covered landscape was covered in molten glass.

...Once the surface cooled again, it would likely be quite beautiful...in a desolate sort of way.

Regardless, it was quite the efficient process: less than five minutes to cause complete destruction of the unprotected environment.

...McCoy was right: even with their makeshift shields, had the Klingons detected the Botany Bay, the ship would barely have lasted long enough for them to beam away.

A few minutes later, the Bird of Prey warped out of the system.

"And they are gone," Khan hummed. "The Klingons will likely come back one or two more times, until they are convinced the threat has been eliminated...however, they will find nothing. I will leave the alarm protocols in place, as well as the cloak, to be safe."

Except, of course, when he left to reset...or detonate...the next round of bombs in two weeks' time. He would have to navigate away from the habitable moon's magnetic field in order to transport safely back and forth, and he would not risk interference from the cloak scrambling his atoms. The trips would have to be as short as possible...or he could beam back to a pile of debris.

The doctor stared at the expanding plume of destruction on the yellow moon through the PADD; his eyes slowly narrowed; his jaw set.

"...You bastard. This...this is a new low, even fer you."

The killer tilted his head; frowned. "Would you care to explain?"

"Ya say you've studied the Klingons," McCoy's voice was a quiet, even rage. "Well...I've done a bit of studin' too. The whole 'how not ta accidentally cause an interstellar incident' part of my officer training at the Academy. Almost every piece a' tech you use has a Starfleet energy signature, right? Which means that bomb ya set off, and all that tech––"

"Are you accusing me of attempting to start an interstellar war?" Khan couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "Doctor, _you_ are the one who sent out the distress call; _you_ are the one who identified yourself as a Starfleet officer, and begged for help. I simply distracted them from our new location."

The doctor rested his forehead against the glass; glared into space.

"...No. Ya coulda just hid us. Ya didn't have ta pull some stunt with a dummy shuttle. What if they think Starfleet tried ta set a trap for 'em; to destroy or disable one of their ships, and––"

"Then the Federation will stop searching for us, and release my people in order to avoid fighting a war on two fronts," Khan said simply.

...That had not been his original intent...but in the end, if a full–scale war was the only way to save his family...it would be worth it.

"How can you think like that?" McCoy growled. "Do ya realize how many people'd die in a war against the Klingons? How can ya call yourself a human being, and treat innocent people like goddamn pawns?"

...A week before, the doctor would have found himself groaning on the floor; nursing, at the very least, a freshly broken nose...But not now. This was another perfect opportunity to practice patience and restraint.

Besides, in this case, facts were the only weapons Khan needed.

"It is a harsh game we are playing, doctor; human history is full of great men who have bent its rules. And if I must upset the board to win, I will. However, I would like to remind you––once again––that these particular pawns are only in play because of your actions. I never intended to bring the Klingons into this dispute. You sent out the message; it is your selfishness that may bring Klingons to the Federation's doorstep."

McCoy stiffened; turned to his captor with murderous, shining eyes and a scowl that could easily send lesser men sprinting away in terror.

Khan calmly met his gaze; waited to see if the man would lose control and attack him.

...But instead...McCoy's lower lip trembled; his breath hitched...and his furious expression shattered into one of desolation.

The doctor pressed his back against the glass; slid to the floor; hugged his knees to his chest. He stared with unfocused eyes out into the room...and when he blinked, tears rolled down his cheeks.

"...I...I just wanted to go home."

The killer crouched in front of his captive; rested a hand on the man's shoulder.

"A man can never know with certainty that his actions will have their intended results...especially when those actions come from a place of desperation. But you can still have a home, doctor: one in which your past mistakes can be forgotten, and you may serve your new people with dignity. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

McCoy's eyes focused on his captor's face; after a moment, he looked away...and gave a small nod.

Khan smiled; tousled the man's perpetually messy hair.

"Good boy. Now, why don't…" The Augment trailed off as McCoy began to sob.

It only took a moment's hindsight to realize his mistake.

"I am doing it again." Khan muttered angrily; withdrew his hand.

He spoke of dignity in one breath, and treated his captive like a dog in the next.

Patience. Restraint. Tact...and fairness.

It was not...fair...to treat McCoy like that. This...demeaning behavior...was part of what had caused the doctor to rebel; not just the physical violence.

Khan sat to his captive's left; leaned against the glass. The doctor was weeping into the right elbow of his new shirt. In all the chaos, the man still hadn't bothered to button it the rest of the way; it made the scene feel somehow even more...tragic.

"...I am sorry, McCoy. I mean that."

There was no response.

Khan rested his head on the glass; listened as the doctor tried to calm himself. After a few minutes, McCoy's sobs grew further apart; his shuddering breaths deeper.

...How many times had he reduced his captive to this state? It had to occur far more often than he actually witnessed: McCoy was a proud man, after all...

It was so easy to slip into this cruel cycle; so easy for him to ignore exactly _why_ he needed to change.

Perhaps...there were ways to make it more difficult to forget.

"McCoy...would you tell me a story? Something from your old life."

The doctor tensed; looked at him with inflamed, terrified eyes...but did not speak.

The killer shook his head. "I swear, McCoy: this is not a 'Lenny and George' situation. I would simply like to learn more about you."

...Still, just staring; a small twitch of the right eyebrow.

"I understand your reluctance," Khan sighed. "You have been...I have put you through quite a lot...and not just today. You undoubtedly hate me more than you have ever hated anyone in your life...However, I am making an effort to reshape my attitudes about our...respective differences. A herculean undertaking...but one which, if successful, will benefit you greatly. So...please...play along."

McCoy's eyes flickered between fear, anger, and doubt; his mouth deformed in a way that made the Augment think the man might just spit on him again.

...But then the doctor slumped back against the glass; closed his puffy eyes.

"Whaddaya wanna hear?"

Khan tried to make his voice as kind as possible. "You went to medical school at the University of Mississippi. Would you mind telling me a story from your time there?"

"How did you know…" His captive stopped; took an uneven breath. "Right. Ya probably read my personnel file 'fore ya...Fine. Do ya want somethin' funny, or serious, or––"

"Anything you would like to share, McCoy...Just please, pick something."

The doctor opened his eyes slightly; stared at his hands.

"...I used ta pull pranks on my friends."

Khan's lip twitched. "Pranks? Of what kind?"

"...Mostly small stuff: whoopie cushions in their seats...dribble glasses in the cafeteria...one time I put a comm speaker in my roommate's iguana enclosure. Tristan liked ta...um...well...he was researching a new strain of medical cannabis, and sometimes he...brought his work home with him. So I waited for a day when he was really annoying me...and I hid in the bushes outside our room...and convinced him his iguana had become sentient."

The Augment chuckled. "How long did it take him to realize what you had done?'

"Way too long." McCoy's eyes crinkled at the corners. "He was really out of it. I had ta stop 'em from reportin' that nippy little lizard as a new lifeform ta Star..."

The ghost of humor dissipated from the doctor's features...and he went quiet.

"...Go on, McCoy. Finish the story."

"There's not much else to it," McCoy said numbly. "I...stopped pullin' pranks after a prank war got a bit...outta hand. It was all pretty childish anyway."

Khan suppressed a sigh of exasperation. He understood why the man was resisting...but it did not prevent part of him from wanting to terrify the rest of the story out of his captive.

...He truly had become far too reliant on...primitive...forms of persuasion.

The killer laid a hand on his captive's tense shoulder again; gave a reassuring squeeze.

"I am certain this will become easier, McCoy...it will just take time."

McCoy closed his eyes again; let out a humorless laugh.

"...Whatever you say."


	49. Chapter 49

"Acting CMO's log, Doctor J.G. M'Benga reporting. Stardate 2261.146."

The tired doctor rested an elbow on his desk; shifted in his seat.

"It's been a relatively uneventful day...or at least as uneventful as is possible, under the circumstances. I cleared Ensign Perri for duty a little after lunch: her shoulder is recovering nicely from that combat training accident on Friday. Excluding her check–up, I haven't had a single new patient all day."

...Although M'Benga was certain that was not for lack of trying. In the past month and a half, Engineering _alone_ had sent him five plasma burns, two broken bones, and a round of stomach parasites he suspected had been brought onboard during shore leave. He still wasn't sure he'd seen the last case of those…

"I must admit, acting as the Enterprise's...temporary...CMO, on top of my duties as ship's counselor, for the past month and a half has been...trying. Visits to my office have quintupled, and for good reason. I have never been more exhausted...or known my crew better."

Uhura had been a sporadic visitor to his office for some time: the strain of her duties, compounded by dating someone with such...restrained...emotions often left her needing someone to vent to. It did not help that one of the only other people she ever vented to was...had been...Doctor McCoy. She came by far more frequently since her friend's kidnapping.

Hendorff, surprisingly, was one of the first new patients to come to him. As Chief of Security, the Lieutenant blamed himself for Khan reaching the medbay after the Archer attack...even though he and his entire team were scouring the Enterprise for bombs at the time.

Spock had also been a surprise...but that man definitely needed therapy. Any person with even a ounce of Human ancestry would have trouble processing everything Spock had been through.

And M'Benga suspected the first officer had been instrumental in convincing Kirk to come in as well. He'd never known how rough the captain's early life had been...

"But at the moment, all is quiet. The only patients I have are our nine frozen guests."

And they were currently being fussed over by Doctor Chapel, and an overworked Scottish man.

"Our Chief Engineer, Mister Scott, believes he may have found a solution to the power fluctuations in the five damaged cryotubes. It's a...surprisingly simple fix, so Captain Kirk has given him permission to make the necessary adjustments. He has also ordered Scotty to run through diagnostics on all nine cryotubes, to ensure there are no more malfunctions."

M'Benga shuddered at the thought of what would happen if the Augments died when Khan tried to wake them. There was no doubt in his mind who the terrorist would blame...or who would face the brunt of the man's wrath.

"I can only hope Khan treats Doctor McCoy with the same care we are giving his people...although I fear that is simply wishful thinking."

In reality, M'Benga was certain his friend's situation was growing more desperate by the day.

Kirk had described Khan's latest assault on McCoy in their first session, right after his failed attempt at negotiation. The thought of that...sadist...breaking his friend's arm in order to hurt their captain...it was appalling.

...But it wasn't just the physical abuse that had M'Benga concerned. From Kirk's accounts: the "pet" language Khan used on his captive; the doctor's...obedience...in only speaking when given permission, it was only a matter of time before traumatic bonding set in...if it hadn't already.

It was a basic survival instinct: constant degradation, beatings, broken bones and...who knew what other tortures...were enough to drain anyone, physically and mentally. If any part of McCoy, conscious or subconscious, thought Khan might stop hurting him in exchange for––

"Doctor M'Benga?" Chapel's concerned voice called through his closed office door.

M'Benga paused his log; looked up. "Is everything alright?"

"Scotty's found...we're not quite sure yet. We need you out here."

...Those words never led to anything good.

The doctor rose; left his office; followed his new colleague to the back of the medbay.

Scotty must have finished his modification: none of the nine cryotubes had any warning lights anymore; none of them were hooked up to the ship's power.

So if that wasn't it, then why was Scotty standing next to the cryotubes with one of the grimest expressions he'd ever seen on the engineer's face?

"What do you have for me, Scotty?" M'Benga asked.

Scotty's frown deepened; he pointed to the diagnostic PADD in his hand.

"I just finished a comparative analysis of all nine of these cryotubes' software, looking for irregularities."

M'Benga nodded. "I'm assuming you found one."

"Aye...an' it's big," Scotty pointed to an equation on the PADD. "That algorithm's nae in the programming of any of the men's cryotubes, but it is in all of the women's. There's no reason these machines should have any differences in their software."

...He shouldn't have called it "quiet" in his log. He'd jinxed it.

"I see...Do you know what the algorithm is doing?"

Scotty grimaced. "I...it looks like it's hiding something in their medical scans. But I canne be sure what. Not with the shielding 'round the cryotubes."

"So we need to revive one of the women," Chapel said. "See what's really going on."

"Aye," the engineer agreed. "Well, just defrost her...I don't think Jim'd like to have another Augment up and about."

"I can keep her sedated through the scans without a problem." Chapel looked at M'Benga. "It's your call, doctor. As Acting–CMO, you need to sign off on this, or this...algorithm...is going to remain a mystery."

M'Benga sighed. He didn't like this idea. Even with the cryotubes working properly again, there was always risks involved with such an old technology. Ice crystals; thermal fluctuations...there could even be microfractures throughout the Augment's body. They could kill her.

...But if that algorithm was hiding something life–threatening, then when Khan...or more likely, McCoy...tried to revive the affected Augments, his colleague wouldn't have a chance of saving them. Not on his own. And then Khan would...

"Alright," M'Benga decided. "But she goes back in the moment we're done."

Chapel nodded; initiated the reanimation sequence on the closest female Augment's cryotube.

Once their patient was...well, there really wasn't a better word phrase than "thawed out," Chapel pressed a hypo of anesthetic into the Augment's neck; Scotty helped M'Benga and Chapel move the Augment to a biobed.

"If ye need me for anything else, I'll be poking around the inside of that antique," the Chief Engineer pointed to the empty cryotube. "N'er know what else might be wrong with it."

"Sounds good, Scotty." M'Benga picked up two medical tricorders; handed one to his colleague. "Let's double–up on the scans. Wouldn't want to miss anything."

"We'll find it," Chapel began scanning the Augment's head. "Whatever it is...we'll find it."

As M'Benga started his scans, he couldn't shake his apprehension. Being so near such a dangerous person, even when that person was unconscious, was a bit unnerving.

...These people...the other Augments...were they actually like Khan, or were they completely different? Did the woman on the biobed in front of him have a more insatiable lust for violence than her leader...or was she a normal, kind person, just with a few tweaks to her genome?

Tweaks she hadn't had a choice in. Tweaks that, hundreds of years before, forced her to run for her life…

There really was no way to know...and he needed to give her the benefit of the doubt.

As the doctor's scan passed over his patient's abdomen, he froze.

...That _couldn't_ be right.

M'Benga reset the tricorder; rescanned the area; his jaw clenched.

...It was still there. Or, more accurately...wasn't...

He wanted it to be a malfunction. He wanted it to be a mistake. He wanted it to be something that had happened before the Augment even went into stasis.

...But it couldn't be. There was no mistaking…Even the best surgical techniques of the Augment's time would have left some scarring. This was done with modern instruments; by modern doctors...

"Doctor Chapel...are you seeing this too?"

His colleague seemed a shade paler than normal as she looked up from her tricorder; swallowed; nodded.

"I swear, I had nothing to do with this. Before I left Xedna Eight, nobody had even dared to propose something like...like––"

"I believe you," M'Benga cut her off. Nothing he'd ever seen of Chapel made him think she would have allowed a patient to be treated this way. But the fact that anyone calling themselves doctors would do this without a patient's permission was…indefensible.

"What is it?" Scotty popped his head out of the cryotube; looked at M'Benga worriedly. "Did ye find something?"

"Yes," The Acting–CMO set down his tricorder. "And it's something we need to tell the captain about. Now."

M'Benga crossed to a comm panel; pressed the button.

"Medbay to Captain Kirk."

There was a moment's pause. Under the circumstances, it felt far longer than it actually was.

"...Kirk here. What's up, doc?"

"I need you to come to the medbay immediately," M'Benga tried to keep his tone calm.

"...Alright, I know I had my physical about a month ago, so it can't be that," Kirk's joke was a stark contrast to the sudden tension in his voice. "What's going on?"

"Captain...something's wrong with the Augments. Something I can't fix."


	50. Chapter 50

"...And Tristan never tried yoga again."

Khan shook his head in amusement. "I would hope not! Honestly, McCoy: how did you stop yourself from shoving a hypo in that screw–up's neck just to get some sleep?"

Leonard smirked. "Never said I didn't."

The killer chuckled; sat on the edge of the biobed by the storage crates. "You were far more...reckless...back then, weren't you?"

The doctor sighed; resisted the urge to lay back on his own biobed. He found it easier to blabber on about his college days if he could keep both eyes on his captor at all times.

Khan really seemed to like hearing about Leonard's med school antics. Which was fine, from a not–getting–constantly–beat–up standpoint: they'd managed to go the entire day before without so much as a threat.

...But that wasn't who he was anymore. Hadn't been for a long time.

"I had a lot of growing up to do," Leonard said. "I'd just started dating my future ex–wife, and gotten into the school of my choice without a hitch, and everything just seemed to be falling into place."

"I see," Khan nodded. "You took more risks because the consequences of failure seemed to be an abstract concept. It is understandable...if quite naive."

...Hadn't he just said that?

"...Like I said: I've grown up. Graduated med school. Got married. Started a practice. Had...Joanna. Kids really change your outlook on a lot of things."

"I do not doubt that," his captor huffed. "Admiral Marcus' behavior always shifted completely when he mentioned his daughter...Whatever happened to her? Is she still on the Enterprise?"

...Leonard tensed.

...Speaking of shifts...

Had Khan been waiting for an excuse to ask that question? Was he looking for Carol Marcus? What did he want with her?

...Maybe it was better if he didn't ask. Couldn't piss the guy off that way.

Besides, he didn't have a clue where she was.

"She got called away ta some new experiment 'bout four months ago," the doctor said sadly. "Never told anybody exactly what it was, or where she was going, but she seemed pretty excited. Haven't heard from her since."

"You seem disappointed," the corner of Khan's mouth twitched upwards. "Were you and she…?"

Leonard shook his head. "Nah. I had a bit of a crush at first, but she wasn't interested. We just became friends. She's a really nice person, and a brilliant scientist...Nothin' like her father."

...At least, as far as he'd been able to tell. But after what Jim had confessed to doing to Nitika...Leonard wasn't sure he was actually the best judge of character.

The Augment's smile faded. He rose; walked about the room.

"I would hope not...Although I am certain you know the saying about apples and trees?"

The doctor grimaced. "I do...but I swear, she's nothing like him."

"So you say." The killer paused a few feet from him; tilted his head. "...You miss your friends, don't you, McCoy?"

...What kind of question was that?

"'Course I do," the doctor shrugged defensively. "Just like I miss my daughter. I care about 'em."

...And Leonard was pretty damn sure _Spock_ would never pummel him to win an argument.

...Except for that time he beat up Jim...but Spock hadn't really been in his right mind then. Having his home planet implode and all that...And the time he beat up Khan...but once again, not quite in his right mind...

God, he'd give anything to hear that green–blooded hobgoblin call him illogical again...or to have Uhura teach him Klingon curse words...or to have a drink with Scotty...or chat with M'Benga about––

"And what about Kirk?"

An edge in Khan's voice set off alarm bells in Leonard' s head...but he knew better than to lie.

God help him...he still missed Jim. Even knowing what he'd done. Even…

"I can't help it," the doctor muttered. "We were friends for so long...part of me still can't believe he'd hurt someone like that."

"Not _hurt_ , doctor," Khan growled. "Nitika was _killed_ , and Kirk caused that to happen."

"I...I know. It's just––"

"Just _what_ , doctor?"

"...Jim said it wasn't that simple," Leonard said quietly. "I mean, what did that mean? Did––"

The killer grabbed the front of the doctor's shirt; seethed.

"It _meant_ Kirk was unwilling to accept responsibility! That another person gave the initial order, so he pretended he was not to blame for what happened! It was the response of a _coward_ afraid to face the consequences of his mistakes!"

"...Fine," Leonard nodded. Either intimidation didn't count as hurting him, or Khan'd changed his mind again...and he didn't want to find out which it was. "Whatever ya say. Jim's––"

"Kirk."

"What?"

" _Jim_ is dead," Khan snapped. " _Kirk_ killed him when he let Nitika's cryotube fail. Stop calling your former captain by such a familiar name, and you may _finally_ be able to break free from that monster. Do you understand?"

"He's not a monster! Jim's just––"

"Kirk, doctor. Call him Kirk!"

"No! Why does it mat––"

Khan slapped him.

Leonard's cheek went numb; his left ear emitted a shrill note.

"Why must you always fight me?" The killer hissed. "Why can you not just do as you are told?"

The doctor clenched his jaw; tried to blink away tears as the pain finally registered.

"Oh...Damn!"

His captor suddenly released him; moved away.

Leonard kept his head down; waited for the next attack.

He _knew_ that bullshit promise wouldn't last long. He _knew_ that asshole couldn't resist––

"Forgive me, McCoy." Khan's tone was subdued; quiet. "It appears I am still having...difficulties...fulfilling my end of our bargain. Would you like an extra ration today? Or perhaps something to read?"

The doctor's eyes narrowed; he glared up at his captor. "What the _hell_ are ya tryin' ta pull, Khan? What––"

"I am _trying_ to hold myself accountable, McCoy." The killer shook his head. "A moment ago, I allowed myself to slip back into old habits. That cannot keep happening. So ask me for something... _besides_ your freedom, of course...and I will do my best to accomodate you."

...Now the asshole was just screwing with him.

"Whatever game this is, I'm not playin.'"

"It is not a game," Khan insisted. "McCoy, I want us to get along. When we revive my crew, you cannot shy away from me like some frightened animal. Not if you want any chance of being treated as an equal. So...please...tell me what I can do to make this right."

"Oh, sure, 'make it right,'" Leonard huffed sarcastically. "How 'bout you scrounge up a bottle of fifty–year–old Tennessee whiskey, a genuine first edition of 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' and somethin' ta keep my goddamn feet from freezin' off every time I touch the floor? How's that for a start?"

The Augment's mouth pressed into a thin line. He glared at his captive...then walked out of the medbay; closed the door without another word.

"...Thought so," the doctor muttered.

Leonard crossed to the shelves; picked up a dermal regenerator. A bruised face was nowhere near the worst injury Khan had ever given him, but it'd still swell painfully if he didn't take care of it.

At least, he thought it would.

He didn't have a good timeframe for his new healing ability. Khan healed so fast it practically took a freight train to turn him black and blue...but Jim had always been erratic: some injuries healed in minutes; some in days.

The doctor didn't know if that was normal for a partially–Augmented Human, or if it was actually a lingering side–effect of Jim's radiation poisoning, or if it stemmed from some random variable he couldn't even guess at.

Leonard sighed; ran the dermal regenerator over his left cheek; up by his ear.

He supposed a little uncertainty was a small price to pay for never developing full–blown xenopolycythemia...as long as that was really all that Khan's blood did to him.

...But what if Khan was wrong? Or lying? What if there _were_ other side–effects? What if, over time, Leonard's new Augment genes made him violent?

He didn't want to hurt anybody. He didn't want…

...What if that was what was happening to Jim?

For James Tiberius Kirk, the man who didn't believe in 'no–win scenarios' or 'acceptable losses,' to kill a hostage, even under orders...something had to be seriously wrong. Something nobody knew to look for, because he and Jim had agreed to keep the blood's side–effects out of Jim's medical records…

Which meant, if Jim really was losing it, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't…

...Or Jim'd just caved to his desire for revenge. He'd almost done it once before, after Khan killed Pike.

...Whether Leonard liked it or not, it was possible his friend was a murderer. No qualifiers. No special circumstances. Just...a murderer.

The dermal regenerator beeped. He'd repaired all of the damaged tissue in under two minutes...

Leonard set the device back on the shelf; crossed back to his biobed. His damn chain clinked as it skittered across the floor; stilled as he stretched himself out; closed his eyes.

Why did Section–31 have to find Khan and his people? Why couldn't it have been a normal starship that found him: one that would've reported the discovery, gone through the proper channels, and not treated those unconscious people like pawns in a game of chess? Hell, why couldn't it've been the Enterprise? If that'd happened, Jim would have tried to help the Augments adjust to Federation society; he wouldn't have...

Leonard's eyes snapped open as a horrible thought flashed through his mind.

What...What if Jim was a member of Section–31? What if that was why he'd let Nitika...

No.

That didn't make any sense. There was no way in hell everything that went down with Admiral Marcus would've happened if that were the case…

Then why had Jim done it? Why had he killed her?

...And who actually pressed the button? Jim? Spock? Chekov?

He just couldn't see it. He couldn't see any of his friends doing something that horrible.

"But one of 'em did," Leonard whispered. "And the others stood by and let it happen…"

The doctor sat up; rubbed his irritated eyes; scratched at his growing stubble–beard. He sucked in a shuddering breath; let it out.

He didn't know any of his friends like he thought he did. Jim must've known killing Nitika would piss Khan off, and when Khan was pissed, he only had one person he could take it out on. And his...friend...had let her die anyway. Jim might as well've broken Leonard's nose himse...

"No," the doctor shook his head. "Khan didn't have ta do that. Jim didn't make him..."

But it sure felt like he had.

...God, he was so alone.

No one was coming for him. It had been ten days since his signal went out–– _ten days_ ––and there hadn't been a trace of a Federation ship.

...Even if they'd gotten his message, he'd already put the Klingons on alert, especially after Khan blue up that fake shuttle. The Klingons were probably making accusations; threatening retaliation.

Starfleet wouldn't risk war to rescue him. Hell, they probably assumed he'd already been taken to a Klingon prison...and nobody got rescued from there. No one would even try.

He was stuck in the middle of nowhere. With Khan. Forever.

Leonard's vision blurred. It took him a few moments to fend off the tears, the effort giving him a dull headache.

...Why hadn't Khan just killed him?

Did that psychopath really expect Leonard to believe that he'd get to live out the rest of his life in peace on an Augment colony? The guy couldn't even stop _himself_ from hitting Leonard every few days: how did he expect the other Augments to…

But wasn't that what Khan just told him? That he was trying to stop, so his people wouldn't treat Leonard like dirt?

...Maybe he really had just slipped up. It was one slap. Wasn't like Khan'd broken his nose again...or his arm...or…

A knot formed in the doctor's stomach.

...Christ...If a patient _ever_ came to him saying that kind of stuff, he'd tell 'em to run for the hills...

Leonard glanced at the chain around his left ankle; grimaced.

He was just lucky Khan wanted him alive...and healthy. There were...a lot of things...his captor could've done to him after that escape attempt. Curing Leonard's incurable disease shouldn't have even been on the list.

...And _that_ was what confused him the most.

Khan didn't just let him live: he'd saved his life.

If none of this had happened––if the doctor had never even _met_ Khan––he probably still would've developed xenopolycythemia. Maybe he would've made it through his five-year mission; maybe he would've made it through a couple more...but eventually, the disorder would've reared its ugly head.

The universe really had a sick sense of humor if being kidnapped by a terrorist was the only way Leonard was ever gonna make it past fifty.

He owed his life...whatever the rest of it was gonna look like...to the same man that had taken him away from his family and...friends. It was a lot to process.

Maybe Khan thought he would be so grateful to be alive that he would do whatever his captor told him to do without question. Or maybe the killer decided...breaking...another doctor would take too long, what with some of his people probably showing up in a week or so...

...Or maybe it meant Khan actually liked him more than he let on.

"Wishful thinking, dumbass," Leonard muttered. "That's just wishful––"

The medbay door hissed open. The doctor tensed; looked up...and blinked.

Khan had a PADD in the crook of his right arm, and a square bottle in each hand.

"I could not find any Tennessee whiskey," the killer said apologetically. "However, there _were_ a few bottles of Scotch. Will that suffice?"

Despite himself, Leonard's mouth watered. He hadn't had Scotch in...well...a really long time. Didn't think he'd ever have it again.

...This had to be a trick.

"Are ya tryin' ta bribe me with––"

"If you do not want them, that is fine," Khan turned. "I will put them back."

The killer started to walk away.

...Goddamnit.

"Wait. Please."

His captor turned back, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

Leonard touched the patch of skin where his ring used to be; sighed.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't want Khan to get it in his head that a couple gifts made up for hurting him...But was refusing a good idea? What if Khan threw it back at him later; tried to use it to prove Leonard _wanted_ to make everything a fight?

Both options sucked...but the first one might at least buy him a little peace.

"...How old's the Scotch?"

The killer smirked. "Twenty years. Is that alright?"

"'S'not bad," the doctor shrugged. God, it sounded amazing. "How much of it can I drink now, with the way you jacked up my metabolism?"

"You are the doctor, not I." Khan crossed to him; held out one of the bottles. "Although I would not advise you to drink both bottles in one sitting. Even for me, that is a bit much."

...Jesus. Heightened metabolism or no, that much Scotch would _definitely_ kill him.

...He'd probably be better off acting like he had a normal metabolic rate, until he could gauge his new tolerance.

"Good ta know," Leonard accepted the bottle; tried to smile. "...Thank you."

His captor glanced away. "This is supposed to be a form of penance, McCoy. Thanking me is unnecessary."

...Huh.

"...Okay."

Khan crossed to the storage crates; set the bottle on one of the closed lids. "I will put the other bottle over here. Is that alright?"

"...Sure."

The Augment nodded; then held up the PADD he'd brought with him.

"'To Kill a Mockingbird,' McCoy. Along with what is apparently its sequel: 'Go Set a Watchman...' and about four dozen other novels. Not a first edition, I know...however I seriously doubt you wanted me to rob a museum."

Leonard frowned. "How did you––"

"I momentarily reactivated the subspace beacon near Xedna Eight," Khan set the PADD next to the Scotch. "Classic works are constantly sent through subspace to schools on Federation colonies. Section–31 operatives used to communicate through requests for these files, as they are innocuous enough to be sent over unguarded channels without raising alarms. It appears the practice was abandoned after my escape...But regardless, it did not take long to find what you wanted."

Well, that was...disconcerting.

"Thank...um...I hope it's as good as I remember."

The killer nodded; crossed back to the doctor's biobed; pulled...a pair of black slippers...from a coat pocket; held them out.

"I planned to give these to you as a reward for good behavior in a few day's time," Khan said. "However, I suppose this works as well. Hopefully, they fit."

Leonard set the bottle of Scotch behind him on the biobed; cautiously took the slippers. They had dots of a rubber–like substance on the soles; the material was unbelievably soft.

The doctor gave his captor a glance, then lifted his left foot; pulled the plush fabric into place. It wrapped snugly around his ankle...just below the bottom rim of the shackle.

Leonard pulled the other into place before he could think too hard about who they'd belonged to before Khan...before Khan's escape.

"Do you like them?"

He wiggled his toes in the soft fabric. His feet were already warming up.

"Yeah...it's...they feel great."

"Good," Khan sounded pleased. "Now, in the spirit of moving past this...incident...would you mind doing something for me?"

Leonard's heart sped up; all his alarm bells blared back to life.

He knew this was a trick. He knew...

The doctor clenched his jaw; stared at the floor.

"...Let me guess: if I don't do...whatever it is ya want me to do, all my...presents...go away?"

A hand rested on Leonard's left shoulder. He flinched...but it didn't do anything painful.

"McCoy, they are not _presents_ ," the killer's voice was irritated. "They are _peace offerings._ I will not take them away from you, no matter how combative you decide to be. I was simply going to ask you to tell me another tale from your past. So I may become more familiar with you, and less likely to slip back into my old patterns. Tell me: is that an outrageous request?"

...Oh.

It...it was just a story. Wasn't like Khan was asking for anything big. Wasn't like...

If it kept the guy happy, there wasn't any harm in playing along.

"No, that's..." Leonard sighed. "I can do that. Do ya want somethin' from med school again, or do ya––"

"How about something a little more recent?" The hand fell away. "Something that tells me about the man you were when I found you."

...'Found' was nowhere near the right word.

The doctor looked up with a glare; saw Khan walk to the biobed by the storage crates. The killer sat; stared him down with a raised eyebrow.

"...Right," he searched for a story that probably wouldn't piss Khan off again. "Well, about six months ago, I went on a humanitarian mission. There was this little colony the Andorians set up on Stel––"

"Andorians?"

Leonard paused; frowned.

There was an odd look in the killer's eyes...almost confused...

"Andorians: blue skin; sensory antennae on the tops of their heads; lovers of weather cold enough to freeze toes off...You've never heard of Andorians?"

"Ah, yes!" Khan's confusion vanished. "Of course. Andorians. They were important to the formation of the Federation, correct?"

...Was he being serious?

"Yeah...Andorians are one of the four founding species."

"What are they like?"

The doctor blinked.

Did...did Khan really not know this stuff?

"...On a whole, their culture's a bit more trigger–happy than some of the other members of the Federation...but they're good people. They don't like arguing as much as Tellarites, but––"

"Tellarites like to argue?"

"...Arguin's the biggest sport on their planet. A lotta the Federation's best politicians come from Tellar Prime. They think the polite way to greet strangers is ta hurl insults, so they can get into a good argument right away. Last time the Enterprise hosted a Tellarite delegation, J…"

He couldn't back down on that. Not now.

"...Jim...made me give 'em the tour."

The killer glared...then huffed; rolled his eyes. "Given what I have seen from you, that was one of _Kirk's_ better diplomatic decisions."

Relieved, Leonard let himself smirk a little. "Well, they called me an 'impolite jabbermouth' when they left, which is apparently a compliment...So I guess I couldn't've sucked too badly at it."

"An entire species completely devoted to arguing," Khan shook his head in disbelief. "I wonder if I might have found a decent debate partner among their ranks...if your people had been kinder to mine in the beginning."

The doctor bit his lip; let that comment go.

Even if they were his people...he couldn't keep defending the indefensible. Truth was, Marcus and his Section–31 cronies had done some pretty horrible things, and Leonard was pretty sure they hadn't all been rooted out of Starfleet yet.

Why should he poke the bear to protect assholes that forced the bear out of hibernation, took its cubs, and used them to make it dance to their tune?

Besides...All it did was piss the bear off.

"So...Khan...I'm gettin' the feeling that, besides the Klingons, you don't know a lot about alien cultures. Am I right?"

Khan shrugged. "My work has kept me isolated, McCoy. And most Section–31 programs were restricted solely to Human operatives. Admiral Marcus' trust of alien species extended only as far as their perceived usefulness...and in his eyes, my existence made their inclusion superfluous."

...So Marcus was a bigot on top of being a paranoid asshole. Great.

...But did that mean…

"Khan…Have you _ever_ had a real conversation with someone from a different species? Someone ya weren't plannin' ta kill?"

His captor's eyebrow twitched. "A 'different species' has multiple definitions in my mind, doctor. But as I am understanding you to mean someone from another planet...I suppose the answer is no."

"...Huh."

Well, that was weird to imagine. Never, even once, chatting with an Trill, or teasing a Vulcan, or––

"Tell me, McCoy," Khan leaned forward. "What was it like to grow up on an Earth where aliens had stepped out of the realm of science fiction, and into reality? To have casual conversations with creatures from other worlds?"

"...Well..." He hadn't really thought of it like that before... "First of all, there's very few species out there that would appreciate bein' called 'creatures.' It's kinda a universal insult: no matter what the translator tries ta adapt it to, it comes out as somethin' demeaning."

His captor nodded. "Alright, I can understand that. What else?"

There was a glint in the Augment's eyes; a focused tilt to his head.

...Khan was _actually_ curious.

"Well...um...did ya know there's species that can sense other people's thoughts? Some can even project their emotions on––"

"I am well aware," Khan grimaced. "Your Vulcan friend tried to overwhelm me with his grief during our fight. It saved his life...but it was one of the most unpleasant sensations I have ever experienced."

Leonard's brow furrowed.

Vulcans weren't supposed to do that melding crap without asking first. How could Spock…

' _It saved his life_...'

Physically, Khan was not only stronger than normal Humans, but most Vulcans too. If he'd pinned Spock, or tried to do the...head crushing thing...maybe Spock didn't have a choice. Maybe...

...At this point, Leonard wasn't sure he wanted to know what really happened.

Stay on track. Stay on a safe topic.

"I...I meant like Betazoids. They're a pacifistic society. Lots of matriarchal overtones. Some of 'em are born able ta pick up other people's emotions, and some develop it as they get older. All depends on the person, but––"

"You still haven't answered my question," Khan interrupted. "What was it like to grow up knowing the answer to one of Humanity's oldest existential questions: are we alone?"

...Right.

The doctor ran a hand through his hair. "It...it just...was. Most of us learned about First Contact before we even started preschool. Everybody memorizes Zefram Cochrane's Warp Five speech in 'bout fifth or sixth grade. Kids take a buncha classes on different cultures 'round the Quadrant...And we're taught ta respect each other; ta look past superficial crap, and ta only judge people on their actions."

The killer chuckled. "McCoy, you have repeatedly insulted my status as an Augment! Do not pretend such things have no meaning in your society."

...Well, Khan had him there. Kinda.

Yeah, every now and then he made jokes about Spock's Vulcan heritage...but that was just playful banter; nothing malicious. It was part of their friendship. Spock gave as good as he got, and sometimes even _started_ the back–and–forth...when he was in one of his more Human moods.

Insulting his Augment captor was a little different. When people claimed a quirk of their genetic code meant they were better than everyone else, it was hard _not_ to try and poke holes in their egos. For the sake of everyone people like that tended to hurt.

...But there was no way Khan wanted to hear that.

"Never said I was perfect," Leonard admitted. "And I didn't say nobody _notices_ differences: they're just not seen as inherently bad. There's still some culture clashes every now and then; 'specially when two Federation planets had a not–so–peaceful relationship before joining...but for the most part, people try ta be civil."

"Civil," the killer rolled his eyes. "Yes, a culture of polite smiles, built atop the bodies of those that could not be brought into line."

"Well...I wouldn't say––"

"Of course you wouldn't," Khan shook his head. "Honestly, McCoy: I admire your society's ability to indoctrinate its people. If I had been able to use the Federation's tactics in my empire, I may have never needed to leave Earth!"

The doctor bit the inside of his lip; fought back a sarcastic comment. His captor's posture was relaxed; the man actually seemed to be enjoying their...talk. Arguing seemed like a bad idea.

"So...Khan...there's not much of a record of what happened during your...um...what was it like on Earth _before_ First Contact?"

The killer's eyebrow raised. "War, doctor. Constant war. In my time, I often dreamed of a day when the entire Earth would be united under a single government; turned into a Utopia. A Utopia where my fellow Augments could use their gifts unfettered by the whims of generals and politicians; where normal humans could go about their daily lives under our benevolent leadership...Imagine my disappointment when I found out that your United Earth is nothing more than a figurehead for the Federation's Dystopian starscape."

...Was...was Khan _trying_ to pick a fight? The guy had some pretty good reasons to hate the Federation, but to call it a dystopia just felt...wrong.

...On track. Safe topics.

"I...um...I meant what it was like ta grow up not knowing if there was life on other planets," Leonard said cautiously. "I mean, I'm sure a lot's changed, but the basics have gotta be the same, right?"

"The basics?"

"Yeah, like goin' ta school, or out on dates, or just...growing up."

The killer huffed; his lip twitched into a small sneer. "You have no idea how different my...upbringing...was from your own, doctor. I doubt you would enjoy hearing about it."

...What, and Leonard's life was a basket of puppies?

"Come on, Khan: you've made me tell you my darkest secrets." _That_ put it pretty damn mildly... "And now you're sayin' I don't even get ta ask you a couple basic questions? How the hell's that fair?"

Khan stiffened; glared...and then his annoyed expression evaporated into a smirk.

"That is true, McCoy. It is not...fair...to keep so much of my past from you. Not if it could...What would you like to know?"

...He hadn't thought the guy'd actually agree. What the hell was he suppose to ask about?

"I don't know...Ya weren't born six feet tall and able ta bend steel. What was it like grown' into those abilities? Were ya the toughest kid on the playground? Or were you a bookworm: readin' through recess; stayin' after school in the library––"

"I did not attend school, doctor," Khan's face hardened again. "Or at least, not for long. All the education I acquired between the ages of seven to fifteen took place at a programming facility. One meant to turn Augments like myself into weapons for men with far more power than wisdom. Many of my people did not make it out alive...But those of us that did ensured none of our...teachers...survived our liberation."

...Oh.

Alright...this was a stupid idea.

But if Leonard stopped, he might not get another chance to ask.

"What...what about before that? Who were your parents? Did ya even have––"

"I _had_ a mother," the Augment growled impatiently. "Sarina Kaur. A brilliant bioengineer; the creator of nearly all my people's enhancements...and one of the only souls who never treated me like a tool. She was killed when I was four years old, when the nuclear reactor powering her laboratory overloaded."

...Christ. Four years old, and losing...

"But why don't you go by her last name? If she's your only––"

"A man who helped evacuate the laboratory brought me to my mother's relatives in Chandigarh." A sad smile crossed Khan's face. "Prabhot and Sharan Singh. Good, kind people. When it became clear I was not a normal child, they did not shrink away in fear, but instead encouraged me to follow my natural talents. They taught me to build things; to embrace my creativity."

The doctor smiled cautiously. "It...sounds pretty nice."

"They were the three happiest years of my life." Khan grimaced. "But then the operators of the programming facility began rounding up my people. The Singhs tried to protect me...but a civil engineer and an illustrator were ill-equipped for a life on the run. A few weeks into hiding, my 'childhood' ended in a hail of bullets. I kept the surname Singh to honor their sacrifice...as futile a it was."

Leonard's stomach churned.

Who the hell could do that to a buncha kids? Who could murder a bunch of foster families, and take away scared seven-year-olds to some psychotic boot camp?

Wait...Did this mean...

"Khan…" Please, let him be wrong… "Are you telling me that you and the other Augments have spent your _entire lives_ bouncin' between being controlled by different organizations...and being on the run?"

The terrorist nodded. "Until we took matters into our own hands, infiltrated governments across Earth, and turned the tables on our enemies. There were only two ways my people could be truly free, McCoy: take over the world, and use our abilities to guide it into a better future...or flee so far that no one could ever attempt to control us again."

...Dear god.

That...that explained so much. Didn't excuse it; didn't stop what Khan had done from being wrong…but...

"Of course ya think the Federation's your enemy," Leonard whispered. "Ya went out into the universe lookin' for freedom...and you found Section–31."

"The irony was not lost on me," Khan huffed. "However, that view is a bit simplistic. Yes, Section–31 fired the first shot in this war...but the Federation has kept it going. They could have freed my people long ago: sent us to an uninhabited world where we could live out our lives under our own laws. Instead, they kept us in stasis; stored us in warehouses like cargo...and experimented on us to satisfy their own curiosity."

The doctor froze.

He couldn't've heard right.

"...What are you talking about?"

The Augment leaned forward. "Why do you think I threatened to replace you with Doctor Christine Chapel? Out of all the doctors in the universe...why _her_?"

Leonard frowned; searched for anything he remembered about Chapel that might make Khan want to hurt her…

But there was nothing. She was a kind person; had one of the best bedside manners he'd ever seen. Hell, she hadn't even _been on_ the Enterprise when Marcus attacked them! She'd already left to go run humanitarian missions…

...But was that really where she'd gone?

"Is...is Chapel part of Section–31?" Please, don't let it be true. "Is that why she was next on your list? Did she alter your face, or your memories, or–"

"No, McCoy," Khan shook his head. "Honestly, are you _purposefully_ ignoring parts of what I say? As far as I know, she was never a member of Section–31...however, I am certain she was one of my doctors on Xedna Eight."

The doctor stared. "How the hell does that work? You killed everyone on that––"

"Perhaps," the terrorist shrugged. "Or perhaps she managed to mask her lifesign; hide herself away in some little corner until the Archer and the Enterprise were orbiting the base. Or, she was simply not at the facility when that fool of an admiral decided to wake me."

"What exactly makes ya think––"

"Cerberus, McCoy. When I met Doctor Chapel on Cerberus, she told me that I murdered her betrothed on Xedna Eight. Do you truly think that Kirk found the time to vet and hire a new doctor––one with a loved one on Xedna Eight––in the middle of that catastrophe? Or did Chapel work there? Did she participate in the blood draws, and tissue samplings, and whatever else the _entire team_ of Starfleet medical personnel on Xedna Eight did to me without my consent before I woke up? Answer honestly."

...No.

The doctor squeezed his eyes shut; gritted his teeth.

It...it couldn't be true. Chapel had always seemed like such a good person! She'd never run experiments on patients without their permission! She'd never…

...Hadn't he thought the same thing about Jim?

Leonard opened his eyes; felt a sickening wave of despair wash over him. He looked over at his captor; swallowed.

"Khan...I think you're right."


	51. Chapter 51

Kirk was hiding something.

Nyota had seen the signs before. Back at the Academy, whenever the future captain had a major prank up his sleeve, he would become flighty; disappear for days at a time.

That was far more difficult to do, now that Kirk commanded a starship...but he was still giving it a shot. For the past few days, any time the captain was on duty, but not needed on the bridge, he either slipped into his office, or down to the medbay.

...Part of Nyota wondered if he might be sick...really sick.

The communications Kirk and Doctor M'Benga had her setting up the past few days had done nothing to ease that suspicion: surgeons, and geneticists, and multiple calls to Ambassador Spock...

It was getting hard not to speculate, and the fact that, as far as _her_ Spock claimed, the captain hadn't even told _him_ what was happening...well...that couldn't be a good sign.

The lieutenant sighed; adjusted her earpiece; listened for incoming signals.

Maybe Kirk was just stir–crazy. Waiting for the Shenzhou to show up at Starbase Eleven with the rest of the Augments had been...dull; they were all getting a bit impatient.

Doctor Chapel had snapped at Chekov during dinner the night before...and whatever had happened there clearly hadn't been talked out yet. Not if the snippets of conversation she kept overhearing between Chekov and Sulu were any indication.

Scotty had spent the past few days in an uncharacteristically sour mood. He claimed he was just stressed about how much they had worked the warp drive in the last couple months...but of–duty, he seemed to be drinking a lot more than usual...

...Even Doctor M'Benga seemed...distracted...during their last session. But if something really was going on with Kirk...

Maybe now that the Shenzhou had arrived, and the Augment transfers were nearly complete, morale would improve. At least they wouldn't be standing still much longer...

"Commander Spock," Sulu called out from the front of the bridge. "There's a ship coming out of warp. I don't recognize the energy signature."

Nyota looked up from her station; frowned. There were only a few ships in Federation space that didn't have easily recognizable energy signatures; most of them belonged to small merchant vessels from across the Quadrant. But the part of space they were in didn't have trading outposts; there was no reason for one of those ships to be in the vicinity.

Spock rose from his position in the command chair. "Thank you, Lieutenant Sulu. Onscreen."

Nyota accessed Sulu's helm data on the estimated location that the unidentified ship would drop out of warp; put the region on the viewscreen just as a vessel that vaguely resembled a horseshoe crab entered the system.

...It definitely was not a species she recognized.

A light flashed on Nyota's console. "Commander Spock, the USS Shenzhou is hailing us."

Spock nodded. "Onscreen."

The communications officer patched the other ship in; Captain Georgeau's kind face popped onto the viewscreen.

"Commander Spock," Georgiou smiled. "How is Sarek's youngest doing today?"

"I am well, thank you," Spock replied. "If you would like to talk to Captain Kirk, he is in the medbay, overseeing the relocation of our Augment...guests. I can hail him, if––"

"No, that will not be necessary," Captain Georgiou sighed. "I just wanted to ensure you detected our...pest."

Spock's head tilted. "If you are referring to the warp–capable ship that just entered the system, then yes, we have. Although I believe it is a little early to classify them as...pests."

"Trust me: it's the best word for it," Georgiou shook her head. " _That ship_ came out of warp as we were picking up a group of Augments near the Klingon Neutral Zone. They repeatedly hailed us, then cut off the signal the moment we established visual communications. Then when we tried to hail them back, they ignored us and left...or so I thought. They showed up at our last two drop locations, and repeated their pattern of attempting to hail us, getting angry when we made visual communication, and leaving. Given the sensitivity of our mission, I attempted to lose them by passing through an ionized nebula...but now I suspect they've somehow been following our warp signature."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe they are dangerous?"

Georgiou shook her head. "It's hard to tell. They never charged their weapons, but they didn't seem interested in talking to us either. I think we insulted them somehow, but since they wouldn't respond to our hails, we couldn't figure out what happened."

The comm panel beeped; Nyota read the incoming data.

"Commander, the alien ship is hailing us. Do you want me to open a channel?"

"Not yet, Lieutenant," Spock pressed the internal comm button. "Spock to Captain Kirk."

After a moment, the captain's stressed voice came through the speaker.

"...Kirk here. What do you need, Spock?"

"Captain, it appears an unidentified species is hailing us. This may be a First Contact situation. We need you on the bridge as soon as possible."

"...Right. I'll be up in a few minutes. Go ahead and make contact without me."

Spock's head tilted. "Captain, are you sure that is appropriate? They may take offense to––"

"And they might also take offense to waiting around. It's always a gamble, Spock. You've got this. Kirk out."

The first officer turned back to the viewscreen. "Captain Georgiou, as we do not know what caused this vessel to cease communications with your ship the first time, it may be logical for your ship to––"

"You sound just like Captain Burnham," Georgiou smiled ruefully. "Don't worry: we're headed out. If they turn out to be hostile, call us back immediately...but hopefully you won't have to."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock nodded. "We will inform you of what we find."

"Good to hear. Georgiou out."

The Shenzhou's bridge disappeared; the viewscreen once again showed the alien vessel.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock sat in the Command chair. "Are they still hailing us?"

"Nyota checked; nodded. "Yes, Commander."

"Good. Onscreen."

As the lieutenant established the comm link, she couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. First Contacts didn't happen every day, and this was a new, warp–capable species. There was no telling what their history was; what linguistic roots––if _any_ ––they shared with other species; what new perspectives they might have to...

Nyota blinked.

...Those were some of the biggest ears she had ever seen.

Two aliens looked back at them through the viewscreen. One appeared far smaller than the other, but they were clearly the same species: enormous, multi–lobed ears; orange skin; deep set eyes.

...They definitely weren't part of the Federation, or a species the Federation ever traded with on a regular basis…but for some reason...they looked familiar.

The small alien sat in a low, seemingly wooden chair, playing with what looked like an action figure. The alien was making the toy "fly" through the air, accompanied by whooshing noises.

Nyota smiled. It looked like this was come kind of family ship; that this new culture brought their children into space with them on a regular basis. It was kind of sweet...if a bit dangerous.

The larger alien was seated in a much higher...and more ornate...chair that appeared to be made out of precious metals. He squinted at the screen; then bared his pointed teeth; curled his hands into a heart shape.

" _Russsssha teeeelic! Moooork ssssooptptpt meeeeensssum."_

Nyota grimaced.

Usually, they tried to have a grasp of an alien's language before officially making contact...but that wasn't always an option. And if they didn't even have the basic roots to work with, the translation algorithm could take upwards of half an hour of back and forth communication to function properly…if it decided to function at all…

"Alien vessel," Nyota said into her comm panel. "This is the Federation Starship Enterprise. If you can understand what I am saying, please turn the toy upside down."

The smaller alien tilted its head. _"Seeeahlump zzzzpohhaaaashhh?"_

" _Proooooofffffffttttt!"_ The taller one hissed. _"Shiiiiiiiiiishhhhh Qeeeeeesssss."_

" _Seeeahlump zzoah!"_ The small one hissed back; deliberately turned the action figure upside down.

...The tall one did what looked suspiciously like a facepalm.

"Lieutenant?" Spock didn't finish the obvious question.

Nyota shook her head. "It looks like they can understand us, Commander...but they don't have their communicator set for two–way translations. I'm unsure why…"

...Why did something about those hisses sound...familiar…

She couldn't name their species, but Nyota _swore_ she recognized them. Those ears; the divot in the middle of their skulls; even the little toy gun in the action figure's...

...Wait.

There was a bright blue object in the action figure's other hand. It looked like...

"The pirates," Nyota whispered.

Spock turned to her; raised an eyebrow.

"Lieutenant?"

"I recognize the species," Nyota explained.

Hendorff looked over at her from his position at tactical; frowned. "You do?"

She nodded; turned to her console. "They match the general description of a group of pirates the Enterprise NX–01 dealt with a hundred years ago. I'm looking up the file now."

Proto–Federation history hadn't been one of Nyota's favorite courses at the Academy...but the number of times memorizing that ship's alien encounters had paid off during their mission more than made up for an entire year of Professor Finney's uninspiring, monotone voice.

The lieutenant smirked as she found the archived incident report. Where were photographs of the species currently hissing at them: large, lobed ears, pointed teeth...and what the records described as a 'plasma whip' that was the same bright blue as the child's toy.

Even more useful, there were a handful of translated snippets of their language. They were rough, but they would work.

Nyota uploaded them to the translation matrix; reran the algorithm.

" _Mooosssssseeeeee sssssshhhheeeeppppp!"_

"Do you have an estimate of how much longer this will take?" Spock asked. "They are beginning to appear...irate."

"Give it a minute." Nyota assured him. "It's almost done..."

"I can have phasers on them with the press of a button," Hendorff reminded them.

"Negative," Spock ordered. "This is a diplomatic event, Lieutenant, not a confrontation."

...Hopefully.

Nyota checked the algorithm's progress. It wouldn't take much longer...as long as whatever species this was didn't use multiple languages with completely different syntaxical roots...

Finally, the hisses and growls turned into Standard.

"––Pose a transaction to profit your Federation of Planets."

Nyota frowned.

...If a potentially hostile species that hadn't come to their part of space in a century was trying to contact them, then it had to be important. Not just some...business deal.

The translation had to be way off.

"Commander Spock, permission to approach the monitor?"

Her boyfriend's eyebrow twitched upwards.

"Granted."

Nyota stepped into range of the viewscreen; focused on the alien that appeared to be the leader.

"This is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We are having difficulties translating your language. Please repeat your––"

"Oh, Grand Nagus save us!" The larger alien exclaimed. "Not another Female!"

Nyota blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My sources said the Enterprise was captained by a Male Hue–mon." The alien's lips curled back to reveal a row of jagged teeth. "Where is he?"

"Our captain is on his way to the bridge," Spock raised his hand in a Vulcan salute. "I am Commander Spock, First Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. On behalf of the Federation, I would like to welcome––"

"Why was that Female addressing me? Does your species allow Females to disrespect their betters like that?"

Spock's eyebrows arched violently. He slowly lowered his hand.

"...Our people do not discriminate based upon gender or sex. Lieutenant Uhura is our communications officer; she is simply performing her duties, and ensuring that our translator is functioning properly."

"Oh…" The alien gave Spock an odd look; then turned back to her with a pointy grin. "Well, it's working fine, dear. Now run along, and let the Males get on with things."

...So _this_ was why Captain Georgiou hadn't been able to establish communications.

"Commander Spock," Nyota kept her eyes locked on the viewscreen. "It looks like the translation algorithm is functioning _perfectly_."

...Although its benefits were up for debate.

"Thank you Lieutenant," Spock said evenly. "As always, your work is impeccable."

She nodded; crossed back to her station.

"Ooh, that's quite high praise!" The alien winked at her. "Good for you, dear: no shame in sleeping your way to the top!"

Nyota tensed. She heard Chekov give an outraged huff; Sulu glanced back at her; gave her a look of support...and Hendorff looked ready to shoot something.

...This was one of the things that had worried both Spock and herself when they started dating. Even though she was at the top of her field; had intercepted and translated communications that helped save the Federation...people could still take her relationship with Spock to mean that she didn't deserve to be on the Enterprise; that she'd…

That was why, after Nero's attack changed her assignment on the Enterprise from temporary to permanent, they'd gone through all the proper channels; ensured that Spock didn't have any control over her promotion status, or what projects she was allowed to work on, or...pretty much _anything_ that could create an unfair power balance in their relationship.

Not that Spock would _ever_ take advantage of his position like that...but putting it all down on paper meant they could both stay on the Enterprise.

...Still, incidents like this made them _both_ uncomfortable.

"Any interpersonal...associations...on our vessel are none of your concern." Spock's voice was clipped. "You have yet to identify yourself, or state your reasons for contacting our ship. Please do so promptly."

"I'd prefer to do business with your boss," the alien picked at a blue fingernail. "How much longer is he going to be?"

The half–Vulcan tilted his head. "As I said before, the captain is on his way. He should be here any––"

The turbolift door hissed open; Kirk finally stepped onto the bridge. There were dark circles under his eyes...but he'd managed to plaster on a smile.

"How's First Contact going, Spock?"

The first officer turned; gestured for the captain to take his chair.

"Our new...acquaintance...has reminded me of the Vulcan principle of _Kol–Ut–Shan_...and the necessity of Surak's teachings in my conduct."

Nyota suppressed a smirk. Kirk knew enough Vulcan to understand that Spock was trying to tell him the captain of the other ship was an infuriating ass with _very_ alien cultural attitudes.

Her captain raised a surprised eyebrow; his smile almost broke.

"...I see." Kirk flopped into his chair; grinned at the alien on the viewscreen. "Greetings! My name is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Who do I have the honor of speaking to?"

"At last, the boss!" The alien curled his hands into a heart shape again. "Hello, Captain James T. Kirk. My name is Mork, and I am a merchant from the planet Ferenginar. This is my son and apprentice, Zek. "

The little alien put his toy in his lap; repeated his father's gesture.

"I apologize if the translator issue offended you: our people have run into many hostile species, and you would be surprised how many of them reveal their plans to attack our ship in the minutes when they believe they cannot be understood."

...Well, that was a reasonable explanation...if an annoying one. But Hendorff had actually brought up the option...

"I hope we didn't give you a reason to think we're dangerous," Kirk said soberly.

"Oh no," Mork's lobes flopped as he shook his head. "Your employees have been nothing but accommodating, even if your...communications officer...is a bit unconventional."

...Really?

Nota's jaw clenched; she let out a long breath.

Spock must have heard the sigh: he turned to her; gave her a concerned head tilt.

She shook her head. This wasn't the time...

Oblivious to what was going on behind him, Kirk tilted his head as well.

"What's 'unconventional' about Uhura?"

"You've got a Female _working_ for you," Mork jabbed a thumb in her direction. "It is strange for me to see one on the bridge of a ship; especially one wearing _clothes_...but given that that _other_ Federation vessel appeared to be _captained_ by one, I gather it's normal in your society?"

"...Yeah…" Her friend sounded stunned. "...Very normal."

"Huh." The alien blinked; shook his head. "Well, it's not like it's been illegal _everywhere_ we've done business in the past. And The Rules technically only apply to our Females anyway."

Kirk leaned forward. "I'm sorry...what rules?"

"The Rules of Acquisition," Mork said reverently. "My people's guiding principles in both business and everyday life. Rule 94 clearly states: 'Females and finances don't mix.'"

The Ferengi shrugged, as if that settled the matter.

"...I see." From Nyota's angle, Kirk seemed to be gnawing the inside of his cheek. "Well, our society has no such...rules. In the Federation, Fe...um...women...share all the same rights and opportunities as men."

"Well that's...interesting," Mork waved a hand dismissively. "But I am in your territory, so who am I to judge? "

...Who indeed.

"...Look, Captain Mork," Kirk sighed. "I hate to appear rude, but our vessel is on a time–sensitive assignment. If you would like permission to trade in Federation space, I can connect you with the Base Commander of the facility below us––"

"Oh, no!" The Ferengi interrupted. "What I have to offer is something I believe your vessel in particular will be interested in. Something straight from the heart of the Klingon Neutral Zone."

The captain stiffened; glanced over at Spock, who displayed his surprise with a highly angled eyebrow.

"...And what exactly was your ship doing in restricted space?".

"Rule 9: 'Opportunity plus instinct equals profit,'" The Ferengi recited. "There's _tons_ of raw resources in that Neutral Zone of yours. Resources _entrepreneurs_ can tap into...if they keep careful track of Klingon border patrols. You should be grateful that I took that risk!"

"Really?" Kirk did not sound convinced. "And why exactly is that?"

Mork grinned. "Because several days ago, I intercepted a message claiming to be from a kidnapped member of your crew."

The entire bridge froze.

...Had Nyota heard what she thought she'd...

"...What," Kirk croaked; took a deep breath... "...What are you talking about?"

"A distress call from a Hue–mon doctor," the Ferengi explained. "We were lucky to intercept it: it only went out a handful of times before someone turned it off."

"Did you pinpoint the origins of the signal?" Spock pressed.

The merchant shrugged. "Within a few light years. We didn't want to get too close."

"And why is _that_?" Kirk growled.

"Because a signal like that is a Klingon _magn..._ " Mork froze. "...The message mentions a dangerous Hue–mon terrorist. I would never take that risk with my _son_ onboard."

...So odds were high that the Klingons had…

Please, let them have missed the signal.

"Okay," Kirk nodded. "I can understand wanting to keep your family safe. Now, do you have a copy of this message?"

"What, you think I came all this way for fun?" The alien scoffed. "Here, let me play you a sample..."

Mork tapped something into a control panel...and the viewscreen suddenly displayed the...battered face...of a friend Nyota thought she'd never see again.

"Oh god..." Kirk gasped. "...What's he done to you?"

Nyota swallowed a lump in her throat; silently asked herself the same question.

Leonard was a mess.

His right eye...and...pretty much all of the right side of his face...was a swollen mass of bruised tissue. There were clear, half–dried tear tracks running down the doctor's cheeks; what Nyota could see of her friend's rumpled black t–shirt looked drenched in sweat…

...But he was alive. And Khan was nowhere in sight.

" _This is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief…" He hesitated; shook his head. "Former Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. To any and all ships that can hear this, I am requesting emergency_ –– _"_

The recording paused; Captain Mork's lobe–framed face once again filled the viewscreen.

Kirk spun to Nyota, mouth agape.

"What happened?!"

She quickly checked her station; couldn't find a reason for the transmission to have…

' _...A sample...'_

...That...little _k'pekt!_

Nyota glared at the Ferengi. "It wasn't anything on our end, Captain: Mork cut off the transmission. He wants us to _buy_ the rest."

The child sitting next to Mork grinned. "She's got _lobes_! I like her!"

"No you don't!" Mork snapped. "She wears clothes and speaks to strangers, Zek! That's not how a Female is supposed to behave!"

"Why?"

"Because!"

"But why?"

"Because it's...It's just the way it is! Go help Rem with inventory."

"But you were going to teach me––"

"NOW!"

Zek slumped; shuffled over to the door...then paused, pointed his action figure's toy gun at the back of Mork's chair, mouthed what looked suspiciously like 'Pew! Pew!' and hurried out.

...Nyota liked that kid. There was hope for him.

His father, on the other hand...

"You people give your Females far too many liberties" Mork growled. "Honestly, how do you put up with her constant disrupt––"

"Lieutenant Uhura's right, isn't she?" Kirk's tone had a dangerous edge to it. "You want us to _purchase_ the rest of that distress signal, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Mork exclaimed. "Rule 118: 'Only a fool passes up a business opportunity.' If I gave you the entire recording for _free_ , I'd be the laughingstock of Ferenginar!"

"Well, we couldn't have that," Kirk bit sarcastically.

"I knew you'd understand." The Ferengi...purred. "Now, are you willing to do business?"

The Captain's smile was anything but friendly...but Nyota knew what his answer would be.

After all, what choice did they have?

It was Leonard.

"...Fine. What do you want for the _rest_ of it?"

The merchant leaned forward. "What do you have?"

"Our vessel typically does not conduct trade operations," Spock stepped in before Jim could speak. "However, we do have a supply of rare elements and compounds set aside for instances in which bartering becomes necessary. What does your species typically use for currency?"

The Ferengi shrugged. "Well, dilithium is always acceptable...however my people prefer to trade in a substance called latinum."

"Latinum?" Kirk repeated. "What's latinum?"

"A rare liquid metal found in certain crystal deposits and nebulae," Mork explained. "It looks a lot like mercury, however its atomic structure is far more complex. So complex, even transporters cannot reconfigure its patterns properly. It can only be transported physically, or it breaks down. Do you have anything like that?"

"I believe we do," Spock confirmed. "We discovered a modest deposit in a nebulae seven months ago, and one of our research teams has been attempting to put it to practical use. I estimate we could part with up to one hundred milliliters of the substance without compromising their work."

Mork went rigid; his lobes began to twitch.

"Did...did you say... _one hundred milliliters_ of liquid latinum?"

The half–Vulcan nodded. "Is that a sufficient amount to purchase the recording?"

The Ferengi scrambled to pick up what Nyota could only assume was a PADD; began tapping frantically.

"Well, let's see: there's the basic transaction fee, and compensation for travel expenses, and for the dangers of traveling near Klingon space, and the bribe for my source on Federation culture...even if he neglected to mention a few things...and––Oh! We cannot forget the docking fee!"

"Docking fee?"

"In case your shuttle scuffs up the floor of my docking bay while delivering the payment," Mork explained. "It's a standard addition."

"Ah." Kirk said flatly. "Of course."

"That just leaves the negotiation surcharge, and the finder's fee...and...I believe I can sell you this recording for fifty milliliters of liquid latinum."

...Nyota had a feeling that price was more than steep, but without any idea of what latinum went for in Ferengi markets, there was no way to know for certain.

Not that it really mattered. They'd pay in _buckets_ of the stuff, if that's what it took.

"Alright," Kirk nodded. "We accept."

"Fantastic!" The Ferengi looked up from his PADD with a smile. "But before we conclude our business, would you like to upgrade your purchase to include the data we collected on the source of that transmission? I assure you, it will make the recording far more useful."

"...You're kidding, right?"

Mork shook his head. "Rule 12: 'Anything worth selling is worth selling twice.' It's a standard Ferengi business practice."

Kirk's fingers dug into his armrests. "Would you mind...selling...us a file of this rule book as well? Our people would...love...to learn more about your society."

"Well, the Rules of Acquisition are typically only sold among Ferengis...however, for the sake of diplomatic relations, if we round your total up to the full... _hundred milliliters_...of liquid latinum you have available for trade, I can include it in the transaction."

"So for one hundred milliliters of liquid latinum, we get the recording, the coordinates, _and_ the Rules of Acquisition?" Kirk clarified.

The Ferengi's lobes shivered. "That seems more than generous, don't you think?"

"...If you say so," Kirk nodded. "I will have the latinum put onto a shuttle and sent over...as soon as you send us the full recording."

Mork frowned. "Now, wait a minute: you get the product _after_ I receive my payment. That's how this works."

The captain shook his head. "I'm not about to have you fly off without giving us that distress signal. You will be paid once––"

"Are you questioning by word as a businessman?" The Ferengi glared. "I'll have you know––"

"The information you possess could save countless lives," Spock interjected. "And as we have never traded with you before, would it not be logical for you to send us a portion of our purchase _before_ payment...and hold onto the rest until after you receive your latinum? To prove the trustworthiness of _both_ sides."

Mork's hesitated...then smiled again. "That seems fair. As soon as your shuttle launches, I will give you the recording...but you don't get the coordinates and book until _after_ I verify the payment."

"Works for me," Kirk agreed.

"Great! I will contact you again once payment has been received and authenticated. Goodbye."

The channel cut out.

Captain Kirk swiveled to face his security officer at the back of the room; let his fake smile fall away.

"...Lieutenant Hendorff?"

Hendorff grimaced. "You want me to deliver the latinum?"

"If you would please. Take Ensigns Hatfield and Twain with you…and keep your phasers handy. We still don't know if we can trust this guy."

"Definitely not, Captain," Hendorff agreed; vanished into the turbolift.

Kirk rubbed his face in his hands; let out a long breath.

"...Well, this is the single most stressful First Contact I've ever had to deal with...and _I've_ almost been sacrificed to a god!"

"The fertility statue on Yosea Prime was not a god," Spock reminded him. "It was a replica of their species'––"

"Yeah, I know," the captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "Didn't stop them from tying me to it and throwing knives at me...but that's not really the point."

"We are just fortunate that we had something he wanted," Spock said. "Although I am curious to know what the _actual_ exchange rate for latinum is in Ferengi society."

Kirk laughed dryly. "Yeah...though from Mork's reaction, I think we paid waaay more than he expected us to...but didn't we collect a liter of that latinum stuff from the nebula?"

"Two–point–eight liters, Captain."

"I see...and how much has the research team used?"

"Ten milliliters," Spock replied. "And most of that was the result of experiments in transporting the substance. The team is quite efficient."

Nyota suppressed a laugh.

Federation officers might not have many opportunities to barter...but her boyfriend was definitely good at it.

"Well, at least we've got something to trade if we ever encounter the Ferengi again," Kirk cringed. "Although if they all share that jackass' worldview, I might just have to retire early!"

"...Indeed," Spock turned to Nyota, concern barely concealed behind his Vulcan mannerisms. "Lieutenant Uhura, I apologise. Had I objected to Captain Mork's inappropriate comments earlier––"

"It wasn't your fault, Spock," she said. "Our directives say we have to be...polite...to the alien cultures we meet, _especially_ in a First Contact context. There's no telling what would have happened if we'd challenged his comments directly."

Spock's face relaxed slightly; he gave a small nodd. "It will be...fascinating...to see how the Federation's relationship with the Ferengi develops, when our societies appear to have such contrasting perspectives."

A light flashed on Nyota's station. Hendorff was already at the shuttle; she patched them through.

" _Hendorff to Enterprise: we're ready to go."_

The captain pressed the comm button. "Godspeed, Lieutenant. Come back in one piece, okay?"

" _Yes, sir. We'll be back soon."_

Kirk closed his eyes; sighed; then plastered on his fake smile; swiveled to face the viewscreen.

"...Uhura, please hail that misogynistic prick."

Nyota smirked. "Yes, Captain."

She contacted Mork's ship; the Ferengi flicked back onto the viewscreen.

"Is my latinum on its way?"

"It is," Kirk confirmed. "And our distress signal?"

"Of course," The Ferengi purred. "I hope you find it useful."

The alien's transmission cut out; a file popped up on Nyota's console.

"I've got it," she reported. "It looks like it's only a couple minutes long."

"Thank you Lieutenant," Kirk paused. "...Everybody ready?"

Spock rested a hand on the back of the captain's chair. "Jim...I doubt this will become easier if drawn out…"

"I know, Spock..." Jim took a deep breath in; out. "...Onscreen."

Nyota opened the file...and Leonard's bruised face once again replaced the starscape.

...What had happened to him?

" _This is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief…Former Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. To any and all ships that can hear this, I am requesting emergency aide."_

Please, let the message be recent. Let it be––

" _A little over forty days ago, I was abducted by Khan Noonien Singh, a terrorist who is threatening to set off bombs throughout Federation space."_

...God...the message was already eleven days old...

 _The doctor's good eye was haunted; he seemed to be trembling._

" _He...he told me that there's a bomb under a playground in Atlanta, Georgia. He's gonna kill children!"_

...Children.

Khan didn't have a line he wouldn't cross, did he?

" _A few minutes ago, I was finally able ta sedate him," Leonard touched his throat. "Nearly got my neck snapped doin' it...but I've got 'em knocked out in the makeshift medbay he made for me."_

Nyota felt a rush of pride in her friend.

 _That_ was the Leonard McCoy she knew! He turned the tables on that––

" _I'm not sure how long I can keep him that way though. If what he's told me is true, then his bombs are on timers. If he doesn't reset them in 'bout three weeks, then they'll all go off at once...and I can't let that happen. If nobody comes...if nobody rescues me and captures him by then...I'll have ta wake 'em up."_

Her smile faded.

...Timers. Of course Khan would use timers.

If the message had been sent out eleven days before, then they had less than half that to mount a rescue. What if he was too far away...

 _The doctor grimaced; stared ahead at something they couldn't see._

" _I...I have no idea where I am. I know that I'm on the ship that Khan set out from Earth in...the Botany Bay, and that we've landed on a moon that's covered in yellow sand, and we're orbiting a gas giant. There's at least one other moon; it's M–class...and the Federation's apparently studied it before, and decided the magnetic field was too strong ta make it a good colony...and that's all I know."_

Nyota glanced over at Sulu and Chekov. The pair had pulled up a list of charted star systems; were already putting in the celestial conditions Leonard described; searching for possible matches.

...But there could be hundreds of systems like that.

" _He's got this beaming tech that lets 'em jump from planet ta planet…If somebody can talk me through how ta set in coordinates...I think I can beam us both out of here; maybe even all the way back ta Earth...But I can't risk it without help. I'm a doctor, not a...I have no clue how ta use the thing...and if I screw up…a lot of innocent people will die."_

Chekov stiffened; turned to Kirk with wide eyes; shook his head rapidly.

...The navigator was right: having Leonard try to beam himself out was too big of a risk. They needed to travel there in the Enterprise...or he'd never make it home.

Mork'd better not be lying about having the coordinates.

 _Her friend's breath sped up; he clenched his jaw; closed his glistening eye._

 _...Then he slumped forward, and the tears finally spilled over._

" _Please...someone help me. I can't let this monster go! He's killed so many people already, and he's threatened my daughter! She's only twelve years old…"_

...Joanna...

Khan kept Leonard in line by threatening _Joanna_.

Scum was too kind a word.

 _Her friend stared back into the camera._

" _Look...I don't care if you're with the Federation, or the Orions, or...hell! If the only people gettin' this message are Klingons, or Romulans, or anybody else that wants ta show up the Federation by capturing the most dangerous terrorist of our time, I'll drink blood wine, or Romulan ale, or generally have a great 'we saved thousands of lives' victory dinner with any of ya. Just as long as you stop those bombs from goin' off…"_

...He was _that_ desperate. He'd rather…

 _There was a pause; a spectrum of emotions passed over Leonard's face._

" _So…" The doctor cleared his throat. "Once again: I am Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, former CMO of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Kidnapped by Khan Noonien Singh over forty days ago. We're on an old Earth ship called the Botany Bay. He's got bombs on timers all over the place. Get me out of here, and I'll happily play diplomat, or political prisoner, or whatever ya wanna call it, okay? Just...please send help. Anything's better than this. McCoy out."_

The recording ended; the viewscreen once again displayed the Ferengi ship.

No one spoke.

...She'd never seen Leonard like that before. Sure, from time to time, the guy had had his breakdown moments––they _all_ did––but that haunted look...the sheer terror over the possibility of Khan waking up again...

...What had that monster done to her friend?

A light flashed on Nyota's console; she read the transmission.

"Captain, Mork is hailing us again."

"...Thanks, Uhura," Kirk's voice had a tremor to it; he cleared his throat. "Onscreen."

With the push of a button, the merchant's lobe–wreathed face popped back up on the viewscreen.

"Hello Captain Mork," Kirk nodded stiffly. "Did the latinum meet your specifications?"

"Oh, yes," The Ferengi grinned. "It seems you are an honest business partner...even _if_ other aspects of your culture are a bit backwards!"

...Nyota could almost _hear_ her friend's brain screaming.

"And the coordinates?"

"Yes, of course…" Mork tapped something into a panel. "If my source was correct, these symbols _should_ work with your ship's mapping system…"

Nyota's console beeped; she read the data…and gave a sigh of relief.

"They've already been formatted to Federation navigational specs." One less thing to fight with. "I'm sending them to Chekov now."

A moment later, Nyota saw the coordinates flash across the ensign's star chart; watched him pinpoint a region of space.

"I zink zese zis is it!" Chekov expanded the region on the map; pointed to a planet. "Our astrological data says zis solar system contains three gas giants. Zere is one in the Habitable Zone zat has two moons: one covered in yellow sand, and one M–class with a high magnetic field!"

"Exactly what Bones described…" Kirk muttered; looked at Mork. "Those coordinates are in the middle of the Klingon Neutral Zone: how do I know this isn't all some plot to start a war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire?"

The Ferengi shrugged. "You don't...but that's not my problem. Rule 19: 'Satisfaction is not guaranteed.'"

The captain's sigh was two notes above a growl. "Fine...And our copy of these 'Rules?'"

"Oh, of course!" Mork exclaimed; tapped on his control panel. "I wouldn't want to forget that...I have a reputation to protect after all."

"You certainly do," Kirk deadpanned.

A moment later, a new file appeared on Nyota's console. She opened it; her eyebrows immediately lowered.

...Really?

"I've got the file, Captain...but it hasn't been translated."

"That was never part of the agreement, Female!" The Ferengi growled at her; turned back to Kirk with a smile. "After all–"

"Yeah yeah...Rule 19." The captain shook his head. "Alright Captain Mork, I will just have to trust my highly talented communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura, to translate this for us. She is the best translator in the entire Fleet."

Nyota smirked. Kirk knew when to dole out compliments...and the rules the Ferengi had already recited should be enough to translate the rest of the list. It would be a fun project.

"...Is she now?" Mork hissed something unintelligible under his breath. "...Well...Captain Kirk, I believe this concludes our business. It has been...interesting."

"That it has," the captain agreed. "Hopefully future communications between our people will occur with an easier...understanding."

The merchant huffed. "Oh, I am certain they will. Until next time, Hue–mons!"

The channel cut out; the Ferengi ship blinked into warp.

For a moment, the bridge went quiet again.

Chekov and Sulu were pouring over the coordinates Mork provided; clearly searching for any known Klingon outposts in the vicinity. Any chance they had of rescuing Leonard depended on––

"So that's it," Kirk's voice was...distant. "It's...over. All this...all of it was for nothing."

...What?

The lieutenant blinked. "Captain, what do you mean? This is the best news we've had in weeks!"

"...Eleven days, Uhura," the captain swiveled to her, but his eyes didn't look quite focused. " _Eleven days_ in the heart of the Klingon Neutral Zone, and a signal that only lasted a couple hours...We have to be realistic. The Klingons heard the signal, and destroyed the ship. Khan is most likely dead, and with him, all chance of stopping his bombs. And Bo...Len...Doctor McCoy...he's...he's gone too."

...No...

No!

The fact that Leonard had been able to send that message at all was a _miracle_ ; Nyota was _damned_ if they were going to give up hope now!

"Or he figured where he was, and turned it off himself," Nyota insisted. "There's a lot that can get between a distress signal and its intended source. Electromagnetic interference; ion storms; solar flares...if Leonard's signal really only transmitted for a few hours, then the Klingons might not have picked it up. He could easily still be out there!"

"And whales could pop out of extinction at any second!" Kirk snapped; grimaced. "I...I'm sorry Uhura...that was...Look, I _want_ to believe that this is it. You have no idea how much I want to believe...But whenever Khan's involved, our luck takes a tailspin. And if the Klingons _did_ get the signal––"

"Then you are correct, and all chance we may have had of preventing his bombs from detonating has been lost," Spock interrupted. "However Captain, without knowing for certain what has happened, our only logical course of action is to cross into the Neutral Zone, and search for Doctor McCoy."

"But Spock––"

"Jim," Spock interrupted; his voice was...soft. "You told me why you do not believe in no–win scenarios. There was nothing you could do then, but there is now. Until proven otherwise, McCoy is alive, and waiting for us to come to his aide. You _must_ believe that, because if we do not at least attempt this mission, then Khan's bombs _will_ kill thousands."

...Nyota could read every emotion crossing Kirk's face. Anger. Frustration. Grief. Fear. Doubt...so much doubt…

She understood. With all they knew laid bare, it was hard to think of a scenario where their mission hadn't already failed; where they could still save lives...

...But...finally...there was a glimmer of hope.

"...Well...if Bones is waiting for us, we can't just leave him there, can we?" Kirk huffed; spun back to the front of the bridge. "Mister Chekov, plot a course for those coordinates. The fastest route that keeps us as far from Klingon space as possible. We're not trying to start a war."

Chekov grinned; turned to his station. "Aye, Captain! We'll have to cross through an ionized nebula, but I zink I can get us zere in four days."

"Fantastic! Mister Sulu, be ready to head there as soon as Cupcake's team is back aboard. Maximum warp."

"Yes, sir!"

"Should we contact Starfleet Command before we embark?" Spock asked.

Kirk shook his head. "Every hour we waste could be the difference between finding Doctor McCoy alive, or a pile of rubble. We'll wait to tell the admirals about this until we're almost at the border. Harder for them to say no that way."

Spock's eyebrow quirked. "Yes, Captain. I will apprise Mister Scott of our situation, and ask for his recommendation on how long we can sustain maximum warp."

"Good plan, Spock: blowing up wouldn't help anybody." The captain paused; frowned. "Speaking of...if the Klingons _do_ intercept us...got any ideas on how we can convince them we're coming in peace?"

"I have a...sister...who may be able to help. She has studied Klingon culture extensively, and was posted along their border for several years. It is likely she had had to deal with...incursions...before."

Kirk spun; stared. "Spock, you have a sister?"

Spock gave a small nodd.

"I do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It never came up."

Nyota rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure her boyfriend hadn't told Kirk about his _brother_ either...but Spock was a private guy. It was his choice whether or not to tell anyone about his family...no matter how...big...it might be.

"Alright...I guess that conversation can wait," the captain said. "Go ahead and get in touch with your...sister."

"Yes, Captain." The excitement in Spock's tone would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but to Nyota, her boyfriend was almost giddy.

"Great," Kirk turned to her. "Uhura, I'll need you to keep your ears peeled for chatter from Klingon ships. Anything that might tell us if they got the distress signal. If there's going to be a welcome party when we get there, I'd like to know about it well in advance."

She nodded, "Of course, Captain."

"Great," the captain's determined expression flickered; he sat back in his chair. "Once we're in the Neutral Zone, we might not have a lot of time before the Klingons figure out we're there. We need to be prepared for anything, understood?"

Nyota joined in on the chorus of "Yes, Captains" that echoed across the bridge.

This was it. This would work.

...It had to.

Kirk sat back in his chair; cockily crossed his legs. "Good...now, let's go bring Bones home."


	52. Chapter 52

"Oh, goodie: _more_ underwear!"

Khan looked up from the PADD he was dismantling; watched, amused, as McCoy pulled an armful of undergarments out of the storage crate; tossed them onto a growing heap of clothing on the storeroom floor.

"They'll _definitely_ all've been washed this time."

"I can do nothing about the personal hygiene habits of dead Starfleet officers," Khan remarked. "I simply gathered whatever I could find."

The doctor glared; turned back to the storage crate; gathered another armful of clothing.

"So, what? Ya grabbed some of this stuff off the bathroom floor? Why didn't ya just strip the boots off their feet while you were at it?"

"Who says I didn't?"

McCoy went still; stared at him. After a beat, he looked away; quickly set the clothes down; sat next to them; silently began sorting them into shirts, trousers, socks, and undergarments.

...Did the man think he was serious?

Even mostly cowed, the doctor could not resist lacing his remarks with sarcasm and snark. With Khan's new personal rules against harming his captive, it was...simpler...to respond to the man's remarks in kind...But given their past experiences, misunderstandings were still quite commonplace.

...It was probably best to clarify his intent.

"It was a joke, McCoy. I may have taken everything from their quarters, but I did not leave behind barefoot corpses."

"...Right..." McCoy tossed a brassiere into the appropriate pile. "Ya know, usually when people make jokes, they try ta make 'em...tasteful. More horrible puns; less...horror."

...Tasteful.

"I will keep that in mind," Khan pried the camera apparatus out of the PADD. "Remember: if you see something in your size that you like, you are welcome to it."

"...Thanks, but I think I'm good for now. Ya let me pick some new stuff a couple days ago, remember?"

The Augment looked up, eyebrow raised.

It did not escape his notice that McCoy had, for the third time in six days, elected to wear his navy blue button–up over his black t–shirt. When the top two buttons were left undone, the ensemble bared a vague resemblance to the doctor's old uniform...as Khan was certain McCoy was well aware.

...It had to be difficult, letting go of something to which he had dedicated so much of his life. And the doctor's moral objections to wearing clothing salvaged from the wardrobes of dead Starfleet officers had definitely been heightened by Khan's...poor...attempt at humor.

...But eventually, the man would have no choice. Better now than when options became far more limited.

"You and I both know that when we reach our new home, you will need far more clothes than you currently have in the medbay. Choose another outfit by the end of the day, or I will select one for you."

McCoy glared at him again...then nodded.

"...I'll figure somethin' out." The doctor picked up a pair of boxers; wrinkled his nose. "...So...um...are we goin' through the whole crate today, or just part of it?"

"Actually, there are _seven_ crates to sort," The Augment smirked. "But there is no need to rush yourself."

"... _Seven_?"

"McCoy, these are the personal wardrobes of forty–odd people, plus their uniforms, and all the replacement uniforms their bases had in storage. They take up a great deal of space."

A pained look crossed the doctor's face.

"...Right. That makes...sense. Well, if ya ever wanna lend a hand foldin' and sortin' this...stuff...I––"

"I am busy."

"And what exactly are ya doing?" McCoy gestured to the piles of intact and dismantled PADDs scattered around Khan. "All I've seen you do today is rip apart PADDs. I know you're probably tryin' ta build a mini _warp core_ or some other complicated chunk of tech from scrap parts...but from where I'm sitting, it just seems like a waste of working equipment."

Khan's eyebrows shot up; he tilted his head; scowled. "I do not need to explain my work to you, McCoy. Kindly focus on your own."

His captive blinked, clearly taken aback by the change in tone. McCoy swallowed; nodded; went back to folding.

"Just...um...just let me know if there's anything else ya need me ta do."

The killer let out a frustrated sigh.

...He should have simply explained his project; initiated a conversation about the adaptability of Starfleet tech to their situation. McCoy might have learned something useful, and the atmosphere of the storeroom might have turned light, as it had on multiple occasions in recent days.

Working for hours on end was far more...pleasant...when there was someone to talk to. Even _if_ that someone tensed every time Khan came near him, or made a sudden movement...or entered the room.

The reasons for those behaviors were obvious, and there was a decent chance that the doctor would always be afraid of him...although whether that was a positive or negative was still up for debate.

If Khan's efforts to convince the other Augments of his identity failed, the man's fear would allow the gentler among Khan's people to recognize McCoy as a hostage; flock to his aide. In that scenario, whomever asserted themself as leader would let the doctor live in order to placate that delegation of soft hearts.

But there were other ways to protect McCoy from the more...brutal...champions of their culture. Ones which would only succeed if Khan remained in power...and his captive could at least _somewhat_ suppress his visceral unease.

It would be difficult, but eventually––

"The hell's this doing here?"

Khan tensed; his head snapped up to find McCoy holding a small, flat device. A long, forked wire protruded from the bottom; a pair of small, round objects dangled from the ends.

"Man, I haven't seen one of these in––"

"Set it on the floor, and slide it to me," Khan ordered with a growl.

The doctor blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Now, McCoy. Quickly."

His captive gave him a confused expression, but carefully sent the device skittering over.

Khan snatched it up with a scowl. It did not look like a piece of Starfleet technology, which potentially made it all the more dangerous. One side was solid metal; the other was covered in what appeared to be real glass. There were a couple buttons along the edge, along with a small circular button embedded in the glass itself.

He could not be sure if it was a weapon of some kind, or a medical device, or––

"Khan...it's a music player."

The Augment scowled; looked over at the doctor.

"What did you say?"

"It's a music player," McCoy repeated. "It fell outta a pair of pants. I turned it on for a second, before ya told me ta hand it over. It looks like it's got a full charge on its power adaptor, so if ya unplug the...um...I think they called 'em...earbugs...from the body of the thing, we should be able ta listen to music while we work...If ya want."

Frowning, Khan looked the device over again...and quickly felt the blood rising to his cheeks.

He pulled what upon further inspection was clearly a set of tiny headphones out of their jack; pressed the circular button embedded in the glass. An entire library of music––some that he recognized; some he did not––filled the screen.

Khan found a song he knew; tapped the glass. In an instant, a familiar melody he had not heard in hundreds of years filled his ears.

 _On a dark desert highway…_

 _Cool wind in my hair…_

 _Warm smell of col…_

He tapped the glass again, and the song went silent. A quick glance revealed McCoy's nervous...but amused...smirk.

...Well...this was...embarrassing.

"Like I told you before...it's just a music player," McCoy said. "A pretty antique design...an old as dirt design, actually...but I guess ya left Earth 'fore Humans even made a decent pair of wireless headphones, so––"

"If you are implying that I am a _living_ _fossil_ when it comes to technologies not designed for war…" Khan paused as fear flicked across his captive's face. "...Then I suppose you are correct. The Federation did not supply me with music history lessons when they revived me and forced me into servitude; I undoubtedly have many other knowledge gaps you would find...surprising."

Sometimes, in his room late at night, Khan could forget what century he was in; that he was hundreds of years removed from his empire...but in truth, countless technological and cultural shifts meant that almost everything Khan knew, outside of what the Federation had forced upon him, was obsolete.

The doctor's tension eased; he let out a small laugh. "Well, if I'm bein' honest, tech changes so quickly these days, I'm probably already a dinosaur myself. And I'm really not that big of an expert on antiques, either."

"You identified this music player quickly enough."

"Yeah, well that's just something Jim always babbles…"

McCoy froze; gave Khan an uneasy glance.

...Patience. Tact.

No punishments for minor mistakes. Encourage the change instead.

"Finish your thought, doctor. What does _Kirk_ babble about?"

The captive grimaced...then sighed.

"...Kir...K...Kirk...loves classical tech. 'Specially when it comes ta music. Sometimes he walks around with a portable compact disk player. I don't know where he gets the CDs...but he keeps 'em in pristine condition. He's also got this antique monstrosity––somethin' called a 'boom box'––that he carts out any chance he gets. Shakes the whole room when he turns it on."

Khan chuckled. "I remember those. But it does raise a logistical question: how does he power it? From my training in modern engineering, I know lithium batteries have not been used in any form for over one hundred fifty years."

"He made a special powercell adaptor," McCoy said. "An assignment for a beginner's electrical engineering class. His first prototype gave him second degree burns...but the second one worked great."

"I should hope so," the Augment set the music player on the floor. "And what noise did Kirk re–inflict upon the universe as a result of his homework assignment?"

"...Well, he loves Beastie Boys, and a lot of other classical music from the––"

"I apologize..." He could not have heard that right. "But did you just call Beastie Boys _classical_ music?"

"...Yeah," the doctor said hesitantly. "I...um...I hate ta break it to ya...but that music's over two hundred seventy years old now. It's pretty...classical."

...Well, McCoy had him there.

Why would Khan's taste in music be any less obsolete than the technology he used to play it?

"It is astounding, the things one may have in common with one's enemies." The Augment muttered; sensed the doctor begin to tense again. "...But enough talk of Kirk: what about you?

"...Me?"

"Yes, McCoy: what kind of music do you enjoy?"

His captive relaxed a little more. "Bit of everything. There's some really interesting songs comin' outta the colonies right now...but I do like some of the stuff from your time period too."

"Like what?"

"Like...um...like Johnny Cash, or Green Day, or Kansas...There's a lotta classic stuff that's just fun ta sing along to."

"Decent choices." From what he recalled, McCoy's singing voice was as good as his taste in music. "...I am curious: did you teach yourself how to sing, or did your sheltered upbringing include voice lessons?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Little bit of both. Sports kinda took over from middle school through high school, so I didn't have time for formal lessons after that. Kept practicing with my guitar whenever I got a chance, though."

The Augment snorted. _Of course_ his captive played the guitar. He could hardly see the man playing anything else.

"And what sport enveloped your youth?"

"Basketball," McCoy smirked. "When I was a kid, I thought I was gonna be a pro...but my last growth spurt kinda screwed me over. My feet _still_ aren't nearly as coordinated as my hands."

"I've noticed." Khan chuckled. "I am sorry puberty was so unkind."

"Well, it wasn't all bad." The doctor shrugged. "But I would've liked ta play a bit longer. Might've changed a few things."

...That was an obvious understatement. McCoy's choice of a profession profoundly shifted not only his life's path, but the paths of every person he ever encountered. If the man had become a professional basketball player instead of a doctor, there was no telling how differently events would have played out.

"I am certain basketball would have been a fun career...albeit short–lived, given the energetic nature of the sport." Khan shrugged. "But at least the path you chose allowed you to develop two highly valuable knowledge bases."

McCoy gave him an odd look. "...I understand completely why ya find my medical skills valuable...but unless you're thinkin' of starting a couple all–Augment basketball teams, I don't get how––"

"No, McCoy," the Augment shook his head. "That was not what I meant. I was referring to your experiences as a father."

The doctor went rigid. "...What's that gotta do with anything?"

"My people put off having children while we struggled for our freedom," Khan explained. "As fate would have it, you are going to be the only person in the colony who has ever raised a child. Your experiences will undoubtedly prove invaluable for the rest of us."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "So...what? You're gonna have me be a doctor, parenting coach, and nanny all in one? Is that the plan?"

The Augment tilted his head. "Do you object to it?"

"Well…I don't exactly _object_. Anything that keeps me useful probably keeps me a little safer, right? But––"

"But what?"

"I...I think you're missin' a pretty big flaw."

...Doubtful.

"And what exactly would that be?"

"Your people might not want a regular Human tellin' 'em how ta raise their kids," McCoy said. "I'd rather not get my teeth knocked out by some pissed off parent that can't figure out how ta change a diaper."

...Ah.

"They will not harm you, McCoy," Khan assured him. "Once I convince them of my identity, they will treat my word as law. A prohibition against harming you will be one of my first edicts."

"Well that's...great," the doctor did not sound convinced. "And what about the kids?"

"What about them?"

"A lot of kids rebel in their teens," McCoy pointed out. "Not usually to the extent of slaughtering a bunch of power–hungry jackasses and tryin' ta take over the world...that's really just you guys...but they still rebel. What if one of those superpowered youngsters decides they don't like the advice I'm givin' their parents, and––"

" _Anyone_ that intentionally harms you will be severely punished," Khan snapped; reassessed his statement as his captive cringed. "...I assure you, children would be given more leeway...but I doubt it would ever come to that. In fact, I suspect that as my people's children grow, many of them will seek you out as a source of advice."

McCoy snorted. "Have ya met me? I'm not exactly the most approachable person."

"I _have_ met you, McCoy," Khan smirked. "And although you can be a bit...abrasive...you are also naturally compassionate. I have no doubt the our children will recognize this, and come to trust your counsel in matters that they do not wish to bring to their parents."

His captive blinked; finally managed to smile again.

"Well...people've always told me I'm good with kids. Hopefully I'll be able ta help 'em out."

"I am glad that is settled," Khan leaned forward. "Now, while we are on the subject of children, I would like to ask your opinion on some of my more...logistical...concerns."

McCoy nodded. "I'm guessin' ya mean like how many diapers and stuff like that you'll need?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I could rattle off a buncha statistics..." The doctor shrugged. "But the short answer is: a lot. You'll probably wanna go with cloth diapers––thousands of disposables aren't really practical for a situation like this––but that means your people are gonna have ta get used ta washing them every day. I'd say ya wanna plan for at least twenty five to thirty cloth diapers per baby...ta be safe."

"...I see." That was...a substantial amount of supplies he would have to acquire. He would likely have to break into a warehouse on a colony, or even back on Earth, in order to find what he needed. "And what about clothing?"

"Well...if you're willing ta let your kids wear 'em…" McCoy shifted uncomfortably. "...Then I'm sure some of the Starfleet uniforms you've got in here will fit. Every base and starship's required ta keep uniforms that fit every species in the Federation...and some of 'em are the size of Human infants. Ya might wanna sew up the extra arm holes...but they'll work. At least at first."

...The thought of clothing his children in the uniforms of his enemies was...disturbing...but from a practical perspective...it was a good option.

"I will consider it," Khan said. "Now: how often will we have to worry about replacing clothing as the children grow up?"

"With your people's physiology, I honestly don't have a clue," the doctor admitted. "Even normal kids grow up fast...But it's not actually that hard ta take things in when they're little, and let 'em out as they get bigger. If I were you, I'd scrounge up some needles and thread, 'stead of tryin' ta steal more clothes."

The Augment huffed. "Do not tell me _sewing_ is another of your hobbies."

In an instant, McCoy's miniscule smile faded. He picked up a shirt; folded it; began on another.

"I...um…I used ta alter a few things for my daughter. She grew like a weed, and it was easier ta just get stuff a bit big, and make 'em last longer. I took a class; learned a bit 'bout hemming, and makin' sure a seam's straight, and all that. 'S'not my area of expertise...but when she was five I sewed her a pretty nice bat costume for Halloween. Big wings and all that. Joanna flapped around all night, screechin' at her friends."

...Of course.

That scenario was far removed from anything Khan had ever experienced; yet the doctor painted a vivid portrait.

He could see McCoy scowling as he ran a seam through a sewing machine; nervously showing his efforts to his daughter; beaming with pride as her face lit up…

...And then spending the holiday rushing after his screeching bat-child; ensuring Joanna had a fun, but completely safe, evening.

"...You are a good parent."

The doctor shook his head; kept folding clothing.

"...Coulda been better. A lotta crap happened after I...after my dad...and during my divorce. I stayed in bed most days; drank too much; got in shouting matches with my now ex-wife. Trust me, Joanna's _way_ better off with my sist…" McCoy froze; panic flashed through his eyes. "...Um...well...she's just better off away from all my mood swings."

Khan eyebrows shot up...but he decided to let his captive's slip go. At least for the moment. There was little point in making the man fear for his...apparent sister's...life, when they were having such a productive conversation.

"I have no doubt you are underselling your paternal abilities," Khan remarked.

The doctor shrugged; placed another folded shirt onto a pile. "Whatever ya wanna think, Khan. 'S'not like I'll ever get ta ask her how badly I screwed up her life...so I guess I'll just have ta hope she turns out okay."

...Khan tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at his insides.

Many factors had motivated Khan's decision to kidnap McCoy: the doctor's slight, but vital experience in dealing with Augmented patients; the humiliation the terrorist knew Kirk and that damned Vulcan would feel at having their CMO stolen from under their noses; a touch of revenge against a man that had taken his blood without permission.

But McCoy was...not what he had expected. He was far more compassionate; far more...

...Khan had not set out to separate a decent man from his only child.

"McCoy, if I promise not to harm your daughter's current caregivers...would you like Joanna to join our colony?"

The father stiffened; his head snapped up in alarm.

"Don't you dare do that to her."

...He had meant for that to make the doctor _happy_.

"To be clear: I am not threatening your daughter. I simply thought you might like––"

"Ta have Joanna live the rest of her life as a second-class citizen?" McCoy bristled. "Ta have her be easy prey for some sick Eugenics Wars soldier that's physically and mentally twenty-some years older than she is? Is that what ya thought I'd like?"

Khan scowled. "I would _never_ allow anyone to––"

"Have ya ever stopped ta think you might not be in charge once your friends wake up?" The doctor demanded. "What if, no matter what ya do, they don't believe you are who you say you are? Or what if they do, but you're still overthrown? Or assasinated? What happens then? I don't have a choice in takin' that risk for myself, but I'll be _damned_ if I'm gonna give ya _permission_ ta put my daughter in that kind of danger!"

The Augment's hands twitched into fists...but he stopped himself from going any further.

Restraint. Fairness.

...In truth...McCoy raised a good point.

Khan's promises were only as good as his position of power. If he was killed, imprisoned, or exiled, then anyone under his protection would be at the mercy of a new regime.

And although there were many kind, noble Augments...they were not the ones likely to attempt a coup.

...Bringing a non–Augmented child into the colony could be disastrous.

"It was just a thought," Khan unclenched his hands; sighed. "I know you miss her terribly...but you are right: the risks are far too great. I will not propose that option again."

Finally, the doctor's irate expression faded; his shoulders drooped.

"...Sayin''thank you' for droppin' that idea feels...wrong," McCoy muttered. "But I'm not really sure what else fits."

The Augment nodded. "I understand."

"Ya really don't," the captive rubbed his eyes; took a deep breath. "Khan...I love my daughter more than anything else in this godforsaken universe. When the nurse handed her ta me, she was a cryin' pink blob that hadn't even opened her eyes yet. But as soon as I got her settled in the crook of my arm, she stopped crying, opened her eyes...and smiled at me. She freakin' smiled at me...I'd dive into a pool of lava if it kept her safe. And the only way I can protect her now is if I never see her again. So, please, do me a favor and don't pretend ya know what that feels like."

Khan scoffed; opened his mouth to respond...and stopped himself.

...There was nothing he could say to that. Nothing that would not appear to be either a taunt, or a threat. Nothing that would not undermine what he was attempting to achieve.

The silence that fell between them was...uncomfortable.

Khan glanced back at his pile half–dismantled PADDs; sighed.

...Perhaps it was time. At the very least, this would allow them both a breath. And at best...

"McCoy, I need to run a diagnostic on our cloak," Khan rose. "I trust I can leave you to your tasks for a few minutes?"

McCoy looked up at him with a frown. "...Wait, you're leaving me _here_? Alone?"

"Just for a short time. If you continue working, I am certain my absence will go by quickly."

"But––"

"But what, McCoy?"

Khan suppressed a touch of amusement as the doctor glanced uncomfortably down at his unfettered ankles; shook his head.

"It's...nothing. I'll...um...I guess I'll just keep at it."

"Good," the Augment headed for the door; turned back once on the other side. "I will be back shortly. Do not wander off."

With a shrug, McCoy began to fold a pair of trousers.

"...'S'not like I've got anywhere ta go."

Khan rolled his eyes; closed the door.

...Now he simply had to wait.

The Augment turned to the empty wall opposite the storeroom; gave the crevasse near the ceiling that hid his handiwork a grim smirk before walking a distance down the corridor; slipping into an empty room.

Khan pulled a PADD out of his coat; turned it on. As he knew it would, the storeroom door immediately appeared on the screen.

It had not been difficult to create a remotely–controlled surveillance camera out of a PADD's internal audio and video equipment; if the rest of his day's work went according to plan, he would soon have enough cameras to cover every room and corridor of the ship.

An admittedly invasive procedure, but one that could help ensure both McCoy's safety and his own; especially as the first members of his family were due to be returned sometime in the next...

...Six days.

Khan sat against a wall; smiled.

If all went according to plan, a quarter of his people would be free within six days. He wondered who they would be: Gideon, perhaps, or Arya, or Chetan, or...

...Or none of them.

His smile fell away.

...Starfleet was taking a great deal of time delivering his crew to Xedna Eight. So long, in fact, Khan suspected there was a chance, even under the threat of...eight...bombs...that the Federation had refused his request altogether. That they were willing to sacrifice hundreds...maybe even thousands...of civilians to prevent his people from going free.

He could not let the Augment race die out in Federation laboratories! Not after all they had gone through! He would destroy a thousand cities if it freed his people; bring that self-righteous Dystopia to its knees for their crimes!

Khan swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth; rested his head against the wall; closed his eyes.

...If they were anyone but his family, he knew that cost would be far too great. But they _were_ his family; the last refugees of an obliterated society.

And he had promised them a home.

The sound of an opening door broke Khan out of his thoughts; sent his eyes darting to the PADD.

 _...McCoy was standing in the doorway of the storeroom._

The killer let out a sigh of dismay. He had hoped to be able to rid the doctor of his chain before his people arrived; to trust that the man would not risk his pleasant future in another futile bid for freedom.

" _K...Khan?"_

He kept quiet. This scenario would end one of two ways, and it was vital for it to be completely his captive's choice.

 _McCoy shifted in the doorway; touched the bare skin on his left pinky finger._

...Fifteen days after taking the ring, Khan still had not returned it. The absence of that tiny band of metal was clearly distressing to McCoy...however, even with their improving relationship, the doctor had yet to go a single day without cursing...

 _...He took a step into the hallway._

...Was the man truly going to make this mistake?

 _The doctor looked down both ends of the hallway, clearly searching for signs of his captor. His slippered feet shuffled on the metal floor; the urge to bolt deep into the ship was more than evident in his body language._

 _...But then, McCoy stilled. He rested his head against the doorframe; closed his eyes._

 _A moment of silence; a slight shake of the head...and the doctor slipped back into the storeroom; closed the door behind him._

Khan stared at the PADD a few moments longer; then smiled.

...He could not help but feel...relieved.

Had McCoy decided to run, Khan would have been forced to intercept him. The doctor would have had to 'convince' his captor that it was not a real escape attempt...and then, Khan would have made the man beg for his daughter's life.

...Fortunately, McCoy's choice made that unnecessary.

After a few more minutes without another incident, Khan rose; headed back to the storeroom.

It was clearly still too early to get rid of the chain. The doctor might have fought back his urge to run this time, but there was no guarantee that would happen again.

...Nevertheless, giving McCoy a reward for not wandering off could reinforce that behavior; it was merely a matter of deciding upon something...appropriate.

The man's ring was an option...although for consistency's sake, Khan wanted to keep that particular item tied to McCoy's cursing habit...Especially as it appeared that the longer the doctor went without a physical grounding influence, the more...malleable...he became.

...Whatever he chose, it needed to be substantial. Without his captive knowing he had been watched, McCoy would believe the reward to be a gift; the result of Khan's guilt over keeping him from his daught…

...Now _there_ was an option which would work quite well.

Khan heard music through from the storeroom door.

It was a song he had never heard before, although it sounded closer to something his era would have produced than McCoy's. The beat was a bit repetitive, but the lyrics were curious. Something about 'turning back time,' to 'the good old days' to once again find the comforts of a long–lost childhood...

A decent sentiment...if a bit depressing.

Khan opened the door; spotted his captive sitting...exactly where he had left him; surrounded by reasonably built-up stacks of folded clothing.

...The man's desire to mask his subterfuge had greatly increased his productivity. Perhaps that was something to look out for in the future.

McCoy looked up; gave him a nervous smile.

"Cloak alright?"

Khan nodded. "Everything is functioning perfectly. Were there any problems while I was gone?"

The doctor gestured to the piles around him. "Still just sortin' stuff out. Nothin' too exciting."

...McCoy had no idea how lucky he was that Khan was no longer following his old rules regarding lies.

The killer smiled. "Good."

"I...um...I hope the music's alright...Thought it'd make the work go by faster."

"I have no objections," Khan replied. "Although I thought you might choose something a bit more...uplifting."

His captive sighed; turned the music down, but not off.

"I...um...I just didn't really have the energy for somethin'...uplifting...so I just kinda decided to...wallow...in my mood for a few minutes...and see if it helped at all."

"I suppose I can understand that." The Augment thought for a moment; made the obvious decision. "If you wish, you may keep the music player. Perhaps later, you will have the...energy...for something happier."

As Khan knew it would, McCoy's smile grew more genuine.

"That's...kind of you. Thanks."

...That was a good start...but definitely not enough.

Without another word, the Augment crossed to his captive; crouched; noted how the man's expression wavered.

"...McCoy...I have been thinking about our conversation."

"...Yeah? Which part?"

"The part concerning your daughter, Joanna," Khan continued quickly as fear pinched the doctor's face. "Not the part about her joining the colony: that matter is settled. She will not be joining us."

"...Then what are we talkin' about here?"

The Augment rested a hand on his captive's shoulder; gave a reassuring squeeze.

"When all of my people have been returned, I am going to send out one final message to Starfleet...If you continue to behave as well as you have for the past week...I will allow you to include a few words to your daughter."

McCoy eyes suddenly resembled a puppy's.

"...What?"

"Nothing drawn out," Khan clarified; retracted his hand. "But you would be able to say goodbye to her; to ease her fears for your safety and her own; perhaps impart some final fatherly advice. What do you say to that?"

The doctor's mouth opened; closed. He blinked; a watery sheen formed in his eyes...

Then McCoy lunged at him.

Khan's Augment reflexes kicked in automatically.

His captive let out a surprised yelp as the killer shifted out of the way of the attack; twisted the doctor's right arm behind his back; shoved him face first onto the floor.

"Ow! Goddamnit! Khan, what the hell?!"

McCoy squirmed in his grip; the Augment wrenched the doctor's arm harder.

McCoy screamed.

"Stop! For the love of god, stop! My arm's gonna––"

"Then stop struggling!"

In an instant, the doctor's thrashing ceased; was replaced with tremors and shuddering breaths.

The killer relaxed his hold on McCoy's arm; allowed it to return to a far less...agonizing...angle, but kept the man pinned to the floor.

"What were you _thinking_?" Khan seethed. "I thought we were moving _past_ this foolishness!"

"What...What are you talkin' about? I was just––"

"Attempting to sedate me again? Trying _yet again_ to escape?"

"No! Why..." McCoy stilled. "Oh...oh god, ya thought...Nonono, Khan, I swear, I wasn't tryin ta––"

"You attacked me! You were clearly attempting to inject me with––"

"Goddamnit, Khan! Look around! There's not a hypo in sight! Ya practically strip search me before we leave the medbay now; you know I couldn't've brought anything out here! How the hell was I supposed ta sedate you?"

The Augment hesitated.

...Where was the hypo?

There was nothing in either of McCoy's hands; no sign of it on the floor either…

...His searches of the doctor's person––both before he took McCoy off his chain, and after they completed their work each day––were far more thorough than they had been before the first escape attempt. Smuggling a hypo out of the medbay would have been next to impossible.

...The man could not have been trying to sedate him. He simply did not have the means.

"Then what, doctor? What _possible_ reason could you have for lunging at me?"

After a tense, silent moment; his captive let out a quiet...borderline manic...laugh.

"Ya...ya won't believe this."

...A poor answer.

Khan gave McCoy's arm a threatening squeeze.

"Try me."

The doctor winced.

"Alright, fine! I...I was tryin' ta give you a...a hug."

...What?

"A...hug," Khan repeated. "You are claiming you launched yourself at me in order to give me...a hug?"

McCoy's laugh was close to hysteria. "Pretty much...yeah. A hug. God, I'm gonna get my arm ripped off over a goddamn hug!"

The killer stared.

How could the man expect him to believe that?

...How could his captive come up with such a ridiculous lie?

"I am not going to rip your arm off, doctor." At least, not if this was true. "Now, what exactly do you claim possessed you to...hug me?"

McCoy took in another shuddering breath; let it out.

"You...You just told me I was gonna get ta say goodbye to my daughter. I was happy––really happy. Sometimes people get huggy when they're really happy...even if it's the absolute dumbest move they could ever make."

...Oh.

That...made a great deal of sense. Far more sense than...

At the beginning of his captivity, McCoy had seen him kill an officer with his bare hands; had subsequently been on the receiving end of Khan's wrath many times. The doctor knew better than to attack him; especially unarmed.

...The idiot had _actually_ attempted to hug him.

Khan released his captive's arm; moved away.

"...It's alright, McCoy. I believe you."

Slowly; shakily, the doctor rolled himself over; sat up.

The Augment suppressed a grimace. McCoy's nose was bleeding; possibly broken. As it was, there were scrapes along the left side of the captive's face; a spreading bruise on his cheekbone.

...But Khan was certain that was not the worst of the damage.

"...How is your arm?"

McCoy cradled the injured limb; looked up with pain in his eyes. "It's...pretty damn sore. Don't think anythin's broken...but there's definitely some soft tissue damage. If...if it's okay with you...I'd like ta head back to the medbay and check it out before the swelling really kicks in."

"...Of course. Here..."

Slowly, deliberately, Khan helped his captive to his feet. McCoy was still trembling slightly: an understandable side effect of his pain...and also the adrenaline pumping through his system.

...The killer couldn't tamp down his guilt this time.

Fifty five days. Fifty five days spent together, learning about his captive's life; about the way the man responded to both cruelty and kindness...and Khan had _still_ misread the man's intent.

"...McCoy, you must be more careful. I do not care what motivation is bouncing through your head: do not lunge at me. Ever."

The doctor looked at the floor; gave a small nod. "I know. It was stupid. I––"

"It was _beyond_ stupid," he carefully grabbed his captive's chin; forced his gaze. "I could have killed you. And I would have gone the rest of my life believing the action was justified. I know you have decent survival instincts: the next time you feel like hugging me without warning, _use_ those instincts, and _restrain_ yourself."

"Absolutely," McCoy whispered. "I swear, it won't happen again."

"It better not."

Khan released the man's chin; guided him gently towards the door.

"...Come along, McCoy. Let's go fix that shoulder."


	53. Chapter 53

What omnipotent entity had Jim pissed off?

There had to be one. Nothing else explained the past two months of pure bullcrap he and his crew had been put through. There had to be some bored "god" eking entertainment out of Jim's pitiful attempts to save his best friend.

Jim snorted; slammed his fist into the punching bag hanging in front of him.

...Maybe that fertility statue was upset its sacrifice escaped. The timing was a few months off, but it could've been taking its time; plotting out its revenge meticulously before screwing him over.

The captain pummeled the heavy bag.

Pissed off fertility god. That was _definitely_ it.

 _He_ hadn't made any bad calls, _no_. Of _course_ not! It's wasn't like he'd given his navigator permission to try and cut out four days of travel by plotting a course straight through an _ionized nebula_ without knowing what caused the ionization in the first place.

He gave the bag a kick; gave it another it as the bag swang back on its chain.

Was it too much to ask for things to go right just _once_ on this mission? Why did they keep getting waylaid by serendipitous bullcrap? Why did every deal he made turn to ash? _Why_ did someone _sabotage_ the Augments' re––

"Is everything alright, Captain?"

Jim jumped; spun to find his First Officer standing in the gym's door.

"Spock!" He took a deep breath; tried to bring himself back into the room. "Didn't hear you come in."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "My apologies. You did not respond to my hail. Is this a bad time?"

...He hadn't even heard the comm system go off.

"No, you're fine," Jim gestured to the punching bag. "Just blowing off some steam. Not a lot else to do while we're stuck here...Any word on how much longer it's gonna be?"

"Another twelve hours, according to Mister Scott," Spock said. "Although given his light tone, and the typical accuracy of his estimates, I am willing to speculate that we may be at warp in a fraction of that time."

...Well, _there_ was some good news, at least...

"Still no sign of Klingons?"

"The same ion burst that disrupted our warp engines still appears to be masking our energy signature," Spock confirmed. "Once we are completely clear of the nebula, we will need to return to warp as quickly as possible to avoid detection."

"That's...great," Jim rested a hand against the punching bag; gave it a little push."You know, with all the meticulous mapping projects Starfleet runs, it seems like someone would've bothered to jot down that there's a freak cluster of _pulsars_ along this chunk of the Klingon–Federation Neutral Zone. But maybe that's just me."

"It appears Khan may be to blame for this gap in our database," Spock said. "One of the facilities he attacked was a center for deep space telemetry; given its proximity to the Neutral Zone, it was likely analyzing information on this sector. Khan either stole or destroyed the base's logs when he attacked."

"And robbed us of critical information on a dangerous region of space," Jim muttered. "Definitely sounds like something Khan would do."

Spock nodded. "Unfortunately, it appears there is little that does not fit that description."

The captain huffed in agreement; gave the punching bag another jab.

"They found the bomb in Atlanta. It was the size of a tooth; buried under a swing. The admirals say it had enough stored potential energy to take out a city block. "

He knew Khan was willing to set off bombs in public places, but to _deliberately_ target children was a step beyond what he'd thought that asshole was capable of.

"Then even if the worst should come to pass, Doctor McCoy's distress signal has already saved hundreds of lives," Spock noted. "I am certain that is something he would be relieved to know."

"...That's one way to think about it," Jim moved away from the punching bag; leaned against the rear wall. "We should've been there yesterday, Spock. B...Leonard should already be recovering in the medbay; Khan should be an Augment–sicle...and we should be combing over every scrap of technology that bastard stole to find the locations of the rest of the bombs."

"If we had gone around the nebula, then it would have taken us longer to reach the source of the distress signal than it appears it will now," Spock said. "This was still the most logical route we could have taken."

"I know," Jim sighed; shook his head. "And it keeps us away from Klingon space...at least as long as possible. The distress signal came from pretty deep into the Neutral Zone."

"I am aware...although according to my sister, that solar system is not one the Klingons normally monitor closely. Its lack of rare elements, along with the fact that the only habitable moon in the system cannot be accessed through transporter technology, led the Klingons to name the system ' _Quel–Nok_.' Roughly translated, it means: 'a waste of time.'"

"Glad you were able to get through to your sister." Though Jim still couldn't believe Spock hadn't told him about her. Seriously, was his reputation _that_ _bad_ or something? "Did she have any advice on trying to convince the Klingons that this is a peaceful mission?"

"Don't. Captain Burnham says the Klingons would take it as an insult. They would believe you think they are not intelligent enough to recognize an attack. If we are discovered, Burnham says we must tell the Klingons that we are pursuing an enemy threatening both the Federation and the Klingon Empire, and that we will not leave until the threat has been eliminated. The treaty permits us to enter the Neutral Zone in order to fight a common foe...If they interfere after we've claimed that right, they would appear dishonorable."

"Don't you think that might cause more problems?" Jim asked worriedly. "Khan's not really threatening them."

"That is not quite accurate, Captain," Spock said. "The surviving records from the Section–31 ship, the USS Vengeance, indicated that Khan was responsible for the destruction of Qo'nos' moon, Praxis. Burnham says this event forced the Klingons to divert a large portion of their assets away from war and to disaster relief; thus making Khan a mortal enemy of the Klingon Empire."

"If they know he did it," the captain pointed out. "You remember how covered up he was when we met him on Qo'nos: what are the odds they ever saw his face?"

"That is a possibility," Spock confirmed. "Which is why our mission will be greatly simplified if we can avoid detection. We narrowly avoided a conflict with the Klingons two years ago: the destruction of Praxis, and the Klingon's continuing war against the Romulan Empire, were both instrumental in that...but if the Klingons do choose to fight a war on two fronts, thousands, if not millions of Federation citizens could die."

"Way to take the pressure off," Jim snorted. "Wasn't like this mission wasn't dangerous enough without the whole fate of the Federation being dumped on our shoulders."

Spock came close to frowning. "...Captain, I am just relaying the facts. Becoming antagonistic does not improve our situation."

The captain grimaced.

...Yeah, his last comment had come out a lot harsher than he'd meant for it to be...

"I'm sorry, Spock," Jim sighed; slipped down the wall. "You've done a great job dealing with all this...but I just can't stop worrying. About everything. About what happens if the Klingons find us; about the bombs; about B...Leonard."

"I know you are afraid he will not be at those coordinates, but––"

"It's not just that." Although that was definitely part of it. "M'Benga says he's not sure what Leonard's psychological state's gonna be if...when...we find him. All that torture...all that isolation...by the time we get there, he'll've been completely alone for at least seventeen days."

Seventeen days of waiting; hoping desperately that someone got his message. Knowing that he's only days away from being forced to wake Khan up again…

God, what if he gave up before they got there? What the hell were they supposed to do if Khan ever woke up and found out what'd happened to his fam––

"Jim," Spock walked over; sat across from him. "I am aware that this has been difficult for you...but in the past week, your behavior has become erratic––far more so than I have ever seen. Bouts of anger...and what can only be described as...depression. As both your First Officer and your friend, I have no choice but to ask: have you stopped seeing Doctor M'Benga?"

The captain frowned. "Spock, I've been in the medbay more this week than in the past four months _combined_. I know I've been acting a bit off, but trust me: I'm not skipping out on my counseling sessions."

"Then are you physically ill? Because if you need to reduce your shifts in order to recover from something, I will gladly––"

"I'm fine," Jim smiled sadly. It was nice to see his friend cared. "Not sick. I've just been needed in the medbay this week."

"For what purpose? You do not have a medical degree. You claim your physical and mental health are not the reason for your visits, and yet given that there have not been any serious injuries reported in the past few days, the only other logical reason for you to be needed in the medbay would be if…"

Spock trailed off; his eyes widened minisculely. Jim was able to pinpoint the moment his first officer made the realization.

"...Captain...is there something wrong with the Augments?"

And there it was.

...He'd wanted to keep Spock out of this. To protect his friend from the consequences if this all went sideways...but in truth, he needed Spock's advice. He needed the man's brilliant, analytical, _logical_ mind to help him figure out what the hell he should do.

"...Yeah, Spock...there is." Jim rubbed his face in his hands; looked at his friend with exhausted eyes. "It's...well...About a week ago, M'Benga, Chapel and Scotty were doing diagnostics on the cryotubes. They found an...anomaly...and ended up running some more intensive medical scans on our...passengers. Their findings were conclusive: someone's operated on the female Augments."

Spock's eyebrow twitched up in surprise. "What kind of operation?"

...God, this was hard to say.

"They're...um..." A deep breath in; out. "They've all had...hysterectomies. Somebody...sterilized them."

Spock...blinked. He clearly hadn't expected that.

"...And you believe this was done in our time?"

Jim gave a small nodd. "Had to've been. M'Benga's adamant that even with enhanced healing abilities––which not all of the Augments seem to have, by the way––the medical procedures in the late Twentieth Century would've left substantial scarring. It took a trip through the full–body molecular scanner for _any_ signs of scarring to show up in the Augments. Only top–of–the–line modern medical tech can do that."

"Then Admiral Marcus must have ordered Section–31 to––"

"Wasn't them." Although that would've made the situation _so_ much simpler. "At least, not under Admiral Marcus. The medical scans M'Benga took of the female Augment we captured at Alvin's base––Zuleika Walker––showed that all her organs were intact. If this was something Marcus ordered done to prevent the Augments from reproducing, he would've done it to all of them right away. There's still a chance that it happened under Admiral Yearling's command, but Christine...Doctor Chapel swears that she never even heard a _rumor_ of something like this being done to the Augments. She thinks it was done after Khan's escape."

God...all that time spent moving the Augments...what if they'd been delivering them to the butchers that…

...This...this never should've happened.

There were _hundreds_ of laws on the books stating _explicitly_ that the only one with the right to decide whether or not a sentient individual reproduced was _that individual themself_. Period. Didn't matter if they were a member of an endangered species, or if they had a biology that meant reproducing would bring about the end of their lifecycle, or if they were a _prisoner_ with superpowered genes: the Federation was supposed to respect and protect the individual's reproductive choices; not take them away...

"Jim, Zuleika Walker must be reexamined immediately," Spock urged. "If she has also undergone that procedure, then we will have definitive proof of when this travesty occurred. Has Starfleet Command given permission for her to be removed from her cryotube?"

...And there was another part Spock was really, _really_ not going to like.

"Spock...I haven't told Starfleet Command about M'Benga's findings. As far as they know, we haven't even tried to take any of the Augments out of cryostasis."

Spock's eyebrows jumped into his bangs. "Captain, the last time you withheld information of this magnitude from the admirals, they took your command. You _must_ ––"

"This isn't like Nibiru," Jim hoped his friend could read the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm not withholding this information from the admirals because we broke some insanely strict directive: I'm doing it to protect the crew."

"I fail to see how risking being removed as Captain of the Enterprise in the middle of a time–sensitive rescue operation could possibly protect the crew."

"That's because you still don't know everything," Jim sighed. "Spock, when we were at Starbase Eleven, your counterpart from the other timeline contacted me. He's doing pretty well, by the way; even adopted a couple kids."

"T'Nara and Sevok," Spock nodded. "He introduced me to them four months ago. They appear to be intelligent children...if understandably troubled. But I do not understand what they have to do with your decision to––"

"They don't have anything to do with it," the captain stared at his hands. "I'm just...um...well...So Spock––the other Spock––he caught wind of Khan's escape and offered to help. Apparently, where Khan's concerned, everything's gone so differently in this timeline that he's fine with giving us some pointers. Same goes for a couple other events...Spock's also worked with the Vulcan High Council to make sure New Vulcan was built on a world that hadn't experienced any planet–shattering natural disasters in his timeline."

"Of course. That is a very logical way to approach his unique situation. And what did he suggest we do about Khan?"

"At first, negotiation," Jim huffed. "Pretty much the exact deal that I offered Khan before Admiral Alston screwed everything up...but the conversation went waaay off track real fast."

"Why?"

...Time to rip the bandaid off.

"...Guess what planet was at the top of the 'Do Not Colonize' list the other Spock gave to the Vulcan High Council?"

Spock's eyes went wide. "No...Are you saying...Ceti Alpha V?"

"Ceti Alpha V," Jim confirmed. "Apparently the neighboring planet, Ceti Alpha VI, is going to spontaneously _explode_ in about six years. Spock didn't know why. But he _did_ know that the fallout is going to decimate all life on Ceti Alpha V. If Khan had agreed to colonize that planet––"

"Then the Augments would have been slaughtered," Spock finished, clearly stunned. "You truly believe the President of the Federation knew about this when she authorized the colony?"

Jim nodded. "Absolutely. From what Spock––the other Spock––said, there's no way the Federation Council was in the dark on this either."

"...I see." Microexpressions of revulsion, sadness, and fury crossed Spock's face. "...And you believe Starfleet Command know about the planet as well?"

And _that_ was the trillion credit question, wasn't it?

"I'm not sure," the captain shrugged. "They can't _all've_ been told. If Admiral Alston knew, he wouldn't've tried to make us kill that Augment when we trapped Khan."

"But there is a high probability that at least a few of the admirals in Starfleet Command were made aware of Ceti Alpha V's fate," Spock concluded. "And without knowing who those admirals may be, or if the two events are connected, you do not know if alerting our superiors to the sterilization of the female Augments will lead to an investigation, or an attempt to eliminate the evidence...including anyone who knows the sterilization took place."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it." He was pretty sure his logic was sound on this one. "I...I don't know who to turn to on this, Spock. I don't know if there's anyone in Starfleet Command I _can_ turn to."

His friend was silent for a decent slice of eternity...then let out a suppressed sigh. "...Is there anything we can do to reverse the damage that has been done to the Augments?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out for the past week." Jim felt a twinge behind his left eye. "If we were still handing these people over to Khan in a couple days, then there'd be nothing we could do. M'Benga says lab–grown organs take _weeks_ to form properly. But if this mission succeeds, the decision shifts to the danger of surgical complications; the risk of rejection...Not to even _start_ on the ethical implications of whether or not to replace something like an entire freaking _uterus_ without telling the patient it was ever gone...just to name a few of my headaches."

"...Have you given any thought to what you will do if we discover that Starfleet Command knew about both these atrocities?"

"Only every time I try to sleep," the captain laughed bitterly. "But I'm trying to be hopeful. It just seems like a lot of overkill for one operation. All the Federation Council would've had to do was let Khan's people peacefully settle on Ceti Alpha V; wait for the planet next door to go boom...and let the universe think it was all just a trick of fate. This sterilization bullcrap _reeks_ of someone lower in the food chain who was afraid of the Augments starting a generational war."

...And as much as he hated himself for the thought...part of Jim couldn't help but wonder if that was a valid concern.

Generations of Augments, with values molded by people Khan called his 'family…' It was easy to see how that could end in a bloodbath.

...No.

Free will existed. And they had only ever met a handful of Augments.

There was no reason any children the Augments had _had_ to act like Khan.

...And fear of what some hypothetical person might do did not give _anyone_ the right to choose if someone else could have children...Augmented or not.

"If your instincts prove to be true," Spock's voice called him back to the room. "Then we are likely looking at two independent assaults on a defenseless population...I do not ask this lightly...but have you considered that the sterilizations may be an act of revenge? We have a crewmember with extensive knowledge of Augment physiology...one who has lost a loved one to Khan's rampages. Do you think––"

"It wasn't her," Jim pinched the bridge of his nose; grimaced as he lost battle with the migraine charging into his brain. "Even beyond absolute shock and disgust I saw on her face while she and M'Benga filled me in on this crap, Chri...Doctor Chapel was never alone with the Augments that the Shenzhou brought to us. Not even _after_ the scans confirmed what we'd already feared. I know we can't completely clear her until we check out Zuleika Walker again...but I'd stake my command on Chapel's innocence in this."

...God, he hoped those words didn't come back to bite him. He liked Christine. He felt sick even _thinking_ that she might've––

"...Jim," Spock snapped him out of his head again. "If we cannot find proof connecting a member of Starfleet Command or the Federation Council to these crimes, the accusations could destroy not only our lives, but the lives of everyone we have ever served with. Before we act––"

"We gather as much evidence as possible," Jim gave him a wry grin. "Your Alternate–Timeline–Self is already working his contacts to find out more about the Ceti Alpha V bullcrap; we need to focus finding out who operated on our prisoners. What those assholes planned to do to these Augments were as unjust as they were immoral, and it's our duty to set it right."


	54. Chapter 54

Just keep going.

Leonard fought the urge to throw up as he ran through the Botany Bay.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been at this; couldn't remember what the hell had made him think this was a good idea.

But he needed to keep going. He needed...

All Leonard could hear above his heartbeat was his labored breath, the sound of his feet smacking against the metal floor...and a second set of running feet just a short distance behind him.

Keep going. Just––

He overshot a corner; smacked against a wall with a grunt. The other footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

...Screw it.

The doctor slid down the side of the wall; closed his eyes.

"That's...it...Khan," Leonard panted. "No more...running...today. Please. I can barely...feel my...freakin' legs."

"Are you alright, McCoy?" The footsteps started again; stopped right in front of him. "That was quite the crash."

The doctor huffed; nodded. "Only thing hurt's...my pride. Must've looked pretty...funny ta you."

Khan chuckled. "You were like a broken toy: your upper half shifted into the curve, but your feet just kept going straight ahead!"

"You're the one that insisted...I take up jogging," Leonard glared up at his captor. "'S'not my fault I'm...two months outta shape: I used ta be...pretty good at this."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "And yet I could have run four laps in the time it took you to run one."

...He really didn't need that reminder. Bastard wasn't even sweating...

"Well, not all of us were born able ta outrun a cheetah...But do ya have ta snap at my heels...the whole time? I swear ta god...it feels like I'm bein' chased!"

"There truly is no way to appease you, is there?" The Augment shook his head. "I run ahead of you: you beg me to slow down. I jog behind: you feel like you're being pursued."

"Well, ya could always just run next ta––"

"If I did, I am certain you would find a way to complain about that as well," Khan smirked. "At least jogging behind you improved your endurance: you ran nine minutes longer today than yesterday."

...Huh.

"...Well, who in their right mind'd...stop runnin' when they're bein' chased?" Leonard sighed. "God, I'm thirsty..."

"Here," Khan produced a metal canister from his coat; handed it over.

"Thanks." The doctor twisted off the cap; gulped down some water. "So, what's the game plan today? Am I sortin' out more supplies, or––"

" _First_ , you are going to clean yourself up," Khan wrinkled his nose. "I have no desire to spend the entire day being assaulted by your body odor."

Leonard looked down at his drenched, dusty–red t–shirt and grey sweatpants; nodded in agreement.

His captor still wouldn't let him have a decent pair of running shoes––some bullshit about the potential smell...which Leonard was pretty sure was only half the story––but two days before, when Khan'd told him they were gonna start running every morning, the Augment had at least let him pick out a set of clothes specifically for exercise.

Given how much his new metabolism apparently made him sweat, they both agreed that'd been a good decision.

"Sounds like a plan...just give me a minute. If I try ta stand right now, I'm likely ta topple over."

"There is no rush," Khan sat in front of him; held out a nutrition bar. "Eat something. From what I understand, it should ease your muscle fatigue."

"...Thanks," Leonard accepted the nutrition bar far less eagerly than he had the water; grimaced as he opened the packaging; caught a whiff of chocolate. "Um...Khan?"

"Yes?"

"I know ya...took...a lot of these bars from those outposts...but have ya given any thought ta...um...well...not––"

"Are you tired of the food I provide for you?" Khan raised an eyebrow. "Have you had so many of these nutrition bars and ration packs, that the very smell of chocolate has lost its appeal? Is that what you are struggling to say?"

...He honestly couldn't tell if the Augment was amused, or annoyed.

"Well...it's just...it's been two months of these things, mashed potatoes, and a chunk of fruit every now and then. I know Starfleet rations technically have all the nutrients a normal Human body needs ta survive––"

"But over a long stretch of time, they are not very appetizing," Khan nodded. "I have had the same thought. And as I am also well aware that our current stores will not last forever, I have been making plans to expand our food supply."

"...Alright." Don't ask. Don't... "But what does that mean? Are you gonna attack an outpost, or––"

"Unless you want to eat nutrition bars for the next two years, you should stop asking stupid questions."

Leonard winced; drew himself in a little. "...Sorry."

...He knew he shouldn't've asked. They'd been having such a good morning...

"Oh, stop looking so wounded," the Augment shook his head; sighed. "...If it eases your conscience at all: I do not intend to spend the rest of my life raiding Starfleet outposts. In fact, if a device I have been developing can perform as well long–term as it did during last night's tests, we will soon want for nothing."

...Well, that sounded...interesting.

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "Do ya mean you got your hands on a food synthesizer? 'Cause that'll definitely help––"

"Oh, this device will make far more than food," Khan smirked. "Once given the exact molecular pattern of an object, it can replicate it indefinitely. Food; water; building materials...all made from atoms in the surrounding atmosphere...and all just the push of a button away."

...Alright. He had to admit, that was pretty cool.

"Christ, with somethin' like that, we could make all the medicine the colony'd ever need in a single afternoon, and make disposable diapers for the kids, and..."

The doctor froze; his awe quickly dissolved into horror.

The killer's smile dissipated. "What is it _this time_ , doctor?"

"It's...um..." Leonard shifted uncomfortably on the floor. "A piece of tech like that's pretty useful for a colony...but...I can also see it bein' used ta make...weapons...and stuff like that. You're not plannin' on––"

"McCoy, I am attempting to give my people a home." Khan glared. "Yes, a replicator could easily make weapons, but I intend primarily to use it to make shield emitters, power cells, and other necessities to supply our colony; _not_ to give the Federation a greater incentive to hunt us down. Does that make sense to you, or do I need to explain it again?"

...There was no need to get snippy.

"No, I get it," Leonard shrugged. "I was just worried is all. I don't wanna see innocent people gettin' hurt––"

"Do you truly think I _enjoy_ threatening civilians?" The terrorist growled. "Am I that much of a monster to you?"

"N–no...I just––"

"Then stop asking if I am working on new ways to murder people!"

The doctor cringed. "Alright, I–I'm sorry. The replicator's a really good idea; it'll solve a _lot_ of our logistical problems."

"That it will," Khan replied tersely. "Now eat."

Without another word, the captive quickly peeled back the packaging on the nutrition bar; bit into his mundane meal.

...Why did he always have to antagonize Khan? Seriously, it felt like half his problems'd be solved if he could just learn to keep his mouth shut...so why couldn't he do it? Was he really that stupid; that––

"I may…" The Augment hesitated; sighed. "...I owe you an apology, McCoy."

Leonard swallowed his food; frowned. "...An apology?"

"I have given you plenty of reason to expect the worst from me," Khan huffed. "It is...unfair...of me to lash out when you raise a concern...and after all, you will not be the only bleeding heart among our people. I suppose I should learn to be more...patient...with questions like that before they arrive. "

The doctor's mouth went dry.

'... _Our people_...'

Khan had said...

...God...the Augments were gonna be his people, weren't they?

...This...this was really happening.

Khan's crew could be released at any moment. With the deadline only three days away, the Federation was cutting it pretty close, but if _anyone_ in the Federation Council had a soul, then the Augments would go free.

...Leonard was about to meet the people he'd spend the rest of his life looking after. The people he'd be a doctor to; the people he was supposed to teach to be parents...

...What if they didn't like him? What if they thought he was too stupid; too weak to be part of their colony? What if he was a bad teacher, and messed up an entire generation of––

"McCoy."

Leonard blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask the same," Khan's brow furrowed. "You look like you are about to burst into tears. Were you truly that offended by my remarks?"

"...No," the doctor shook his head. "Nothin' like that. Head's just goin' down a rabbit hole it shouldn't...I'm fine."

"So you say," his captor was clearly not convinced. "Very well...Why don't we attempt to start this day anew? Pretend none of this ever happened."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "Do I have ta run for another hour?"

Khan huffed. "No, McCoy. I would not want to give you a heart attack."

"...Well, alright then. Sounds good." The doctor let himself smile a little; took another bite of nutrition bar.

His situation was still nowhere near ideal...but Leonard had to admit that Khan really did seem like he wanted to do better. It was nice not to end every day covered in bruises...even if the motivations for that shift were still confusing as hell...

...And sure, there was that whole...hug incident that nearly shredded Leonard's rotator cuff...but Khan had honestly thought he was being attacked. It was only natural that the guy'd defended himself. And Khan had felt so guilty about the whole thing that he fixed the hot water pipe leading to Leonard's bathroom. He'd almost forgotten what a hot shower felt like...

The sweat in the doctor's hair was starting to dry: he could feel his overgrown sideburns curling; tickling the sides of his face. He scratched his right ear; combed his damp hair back with his fingers.

"...Hey, Khan?"

"Yes?"

"I know ya want me ta keep the beard...but is there any chance someone in your crew knows how ta cut hair? I'd really appreciate––"

"I like it better this length," Khan interrupted. "As with the beard, your longer hair makes you look less...Starfleet. You _want_ to distance yourself from them, correct?"

Leonard slumped. "Alright...but just so ya know: hair grows about a half inch every month. Unless ya want me ta start lookin' like a caveman, then eventually either the hair or the beard's gonna have ta go."

Khan chuckled. "I will keep that in––"

A shrill alarm cut off the Augment's last word.

The doctor jumped. "Jesus! Again? That's the third Klingon patrol in five days! What the hell are they––"

"We will not know until we reach the bridge," Khan rose; held out a hand. "Do you think you can run a little longer?"

"Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Not really, no."

Leonard rolled his eyes; let his captor help him to his feet.

Their run to the bridge was just as uneventful as it had been the last five times they'd made the trip. Honestly, he couldn't figure out why the Klingons kept coming back: they'd been cloaked for weeks, and all the Klingons ever did was pop in, run a couple scans, and pop out again.

The closest they'd come to posing a threat was the time they sent a couple shuttles to scan the surface of the habitable moon. They'd gotten a little closer to the Botany Bay than Khan seemed comfortable with...but then they'd left without a fuss.

With any luck, the Klingons were just there to play target practice on the glass moon...

When they reached the bridge, Khan made a beeline for the sensor panel; turned off the alarm.

Leonard stopped about halfway between the door and Khan's station. The first couple times this'd happened, he'd gone over to the window to try and see the incoming ships...but space was pretty damn big, and even Klingon Bird of Preys looked like specks of dust out there. It was easier to just wait for the sensor readout.

"What's it look like?" Leonard asked. "Are we safe, or am I gonna be spendin' the next month in my runnin' clothes?"

...He really should ask if he could keep a change of clothes on the bridge, just in case they _did_ have to beam away at some point...

"It appears to be a single ship," Khan said. "But it is coming from a different direction than the other Klingon vessels we have encountered thus far."

...That was weird.

"...Could it be the Orions? If I remember right, they've got a pretty decent trade relationship with the Klingons. Maybe they're gonna scrape some glass off that moon or somethin'."

"It is possible," the Augment agreed. "There is a bit of interference. I am attempting to compens…"

Khan's shoulders tensed.

"...McCoy, wait outside."

Leonard blinked. "What?"

The Augment turned to him, body blocking the screen. "Walk out that door and close it behind you. Wait there until I come to retrieve you. Do it now."

...That didn't make any sense.

"But if the Klingons attack, won't it save time ta have me in––"

"MOVE!"

Khan rushed him; spun him around; shoved him towards the door.

The doctor stumbled forward; caught himself just enough to keep his face from smacking into the doorframe.

"Alright! I'm goin'!" Leonard turned back with a glare. "There's no need ta…"

He gasped.

With Khan away from the sensor panel, the doctor could clearly see that the ship had already arrived in their system; that the optical scan was already onscreen.

...And those weren't Klingons.

There was only one ship that looked like that. One ship in the Federation with those numbers on its hull.

A ship that Leonard thought he'd never see again.


	55. Chapter 55

It couldn't end this way.

They'd risked too much to come here. It couldn't…

Jim sat on the edge of his Command chair; stared grimly at the sphere of charred glass on the viewscreen.

"Mister Chekov...are you sure these are the coordinates Mork gave us?"

"...Aye, Ceptin…" Chekov's voice wavered. "And zat...zat is supposed to be…we are at ze correct coordinates."

"...I see." There was lump in Jim's throat; his forced it down as best he could; swiveled in his chair to face his first officer. "Anybody after us, Mister Spock?"

"Sensors are not registering any Klingon ships in the vicinity, Captain" Spock's face was mostly blank...but his eyes betrayed his grief. "...However, I cannot guarantee that our presence here has gone unnoticed. And the longer we linger here..."

"I know," the captain said. "We'll stay on yellow alert for now. Keep scanning that moon. There's gotta be...something...we can learn from this."

"Yes, Captain."

"Great..." Jim swiveled in his Command chair; faced his communications officer. "Uhura, are there _any_ signals coming in?"

She shook her head. "All I'm getting is background static. That M-class moon is giving off a lot of electromagnetic radiation."

...Maybe that was why...

"Could the interference have been enough to scramble Len...Doctor McCoy's distress signal?"

"Only the short-range frequencies." Uhura replied. "The distress call was probably sent out on all frequencies...The subspace signals should have made it to Federation space in seconds...if the Xedna Eight subspace beacon was operational."

"But Khan screwed us again," Jim muttered. "Since he shut the beacon down, this entire region is in a subspace communications blackout."

...At least, for the Federation. There was little doubt anymore that the Klingons had their own subspace beacon relatively close by. Not anymore...

"...Thanks, Uhura...Just keep your ears open. And send out some short-range hails. I'm...I'm not ready to give up."

"Of course, Captain."

Jim turned back to the viewscreen; grimaced at the charred landscape.

Maybe...maybe Bones'd managed to beam away before the Klingons blasted the moon. Maybe he was already back on Earth; just lost in the woods or something, and finding his way back to civilization. Or maybe he'd gotten the Botany Bay airborne, and flown it to some hidden corner of the system. Maybe even down to that M-class...

...Who was he kidding?

There were a lot of things that Leonard Horatio McCoy could do...but Bones wasn't an escape artist. The guy'd have better luck curing a patient made almost entirely out of stone than...

Pain stabbed behind Jim's eyes. He winced; pressed the bridge of his nose; tried to blink away the tears that blurred his vision.

"Captain," Spock's...concerned...voice called over. "Are you alright?"

Jim huffed. "Spock, it's gonna be a long time before I can say 'yes' to that without it being a lie."

...He shouldn't've said that. After all...he was a captain. He had a duty to his crew to keep himself together; to keep up morale, even when...

Even when thousands of people were about to die.

"...Mister Sulu...take us around to the other side of the moon. It doesn't seem to've been targeted nearly as much. Maybe we'll find something there."

"...Yes, sir."

Despite everything, Jim felt his tension ease a little as the Enterprise changed course. At least when they were moving, it _felt_ like they were doing something; like they could still stop those bombs from going off; like this mission hadn't been a risky waste of precious time; like…

It was pointless.

There wouldn't be any ship on the other side of that moon. Klingons didn't just turn a moon to glass for laughs. They'd targeted something...and they'd made sure nothing survived.

The pain flared up again; Jim felt a tear run down his cheek.

Goddammit...Bones wasn't supposed to go out like this.

Not in space. Not stranded on some rusting scrap heap; helpless to stop a barrage of Klingon disruptors. He was supposed to grump his way through another hundred years of adventures; to see his daughter grow up and have adventures of her own. He wasn't supposed to...he wasn't...

...Leonard wasn't supposed to die alone.

That couldn't be how his story ended.

"Come on, Bones," Jim whispered. "If you can drag my 'sorry ass' back from the dead, then you can beat these odds. Do something. Show us you're still-"

"Captain," Spock's voice was urgent. "Long-range sensors are picking up a Klingon vessel approaching at warp six. It will arrive in a little under five minutes."

The captain stiffened.

...Of course they'd been spotted. Of freaking course.

And from the info Spock's sister had given them on Klingon culture, if the Enterprise turned back to Federation space, the Klingons would think they were spies; the first wave of a Federation attack.

They'd come to stop a one-man war, but this...this could lead to something far worse. This could be the start of the war they'd narrowly avoided two years before.

...And there was only one possible way to stop it.

...The precaution first. They couldn't stop anything if they were blown out of the sky.

"Mister Chekov, arm phasers. Shields to maximum."

"Aye, Ceptin!"

...Now for a real strategy.

"Lieutenant Uhura, be ready to hail our Klingon friends at the earliest possible moment. They can't accuse of of sneaking around if we waive our arms and shout 'hello' at them as they warp in."

"Yes, sir! But just so you know: the closest word to 'hello' in Klingon is ' _nuqneH_ ,' which translates to 'What do you want?'"

"...Well, they won't be able to accuse me of beating around the bush," Jim laughed dryly. "Thanks Uhura: I'll keep that in mind."

And finally...the best weapon they had.

The captain turned to his first officer. "Spock, I need you to run through our treaty with the Klingons; make sure we've got all our 'i's' dotted and 't's' crossed on that thing. It's our only real line of defense if this turns ugly."

"Yes, Captain…" Spock raised an eyebrow. "I assume all this means that you intend to talk to the commander of the Klingon ship?"

Jim grimaced. "Yeah Spock: I'm gonna talk like billions of lives depend on it...because they do."


	56. Chapter 56

They were fools.

Khan huffed as he stared at the sensor readout, still in disbelief.

He had known Kirk was reckless, but to actually cross into the Neutral Zone...

" _Khan..."_

The captain had to have understood how terrible the odds were of finding the Botany Bay in one piece; how unlikely it was that the Klingons would not have obliterated the ancient vessel on sight...

" _Khan, please...open the door."_

And yet...the Enterprise was there. Orbiting the glass moon; scanning every inch of it for clues. Risking so much on the hope of answering a three–week–old distress signal...

It was brave. Even Khan could not deny that.

But bravery could turn to foolishness in a single breath, and in this case, Kirk had clearly crossed that line. If the Enterprise stayed in the system for much longer, then the Klingons would most definitely––

" _Goddammit, Khan! Open the freakin' door!"_

There was a thud; immediately followed by a muffled groan.

Out of curiosity and a...small...amount of concern, Khan pulled out a PADD; switched on the camera feed to the hallway.

 _McCoy rubbed his right shoulder; glared at the door that stood between him and the bridge._

"If you hurt yourself, I am not going to help you fix the damage," Khan warned. "You are locked out; you have neither the strength nor skills necessary to force that door open. Just sit quietly, and when this is over I will allow you the privilege of––"

" _The only goddamn_ privilege _I want is ta see my ship again!" The doctor banged a fist against the door. "To make sure you don't try ta blow 'em outta the sky!"_

...An understandable fear.

"I promised I would not harm your old crew as long as you did not attempt to escape again. Their proximity does nullify that agreement."

" _Then why the hell won't ya let me see 'em? What's it hurt ta––"_

"It is a kindness, McCoy. How do you think you would feel after watching the Enterprise warp away? It is better if you simply––"

" _How about ya let me make that goddamn decision for myself!"_

Khan shot a glare at the screen.

 _This_ was why he had attempted to keep the doctor from knowing the Enterprise even entered the system. At best, watching his old ship scan the system and leave without him could be the last shove McCoy needed to fully break from his old life...but at worst, it could set back the man's conditioning; turn him rebellious; perhaps even drive him to another escape attempt. And if the ship was destroyed in front of McCoy's eyes…

They had been down that route once already. The risk was too great...even if the doctor's pleas were incessant.

 _Clearly frustrated that he had not received a response, McCoy took a deep breath; rested his head against the door. "Look...I'm...I'm sorry I freaked out. I know they can't see us; I know I'm not goin' anywhere. I just...I just wanna see 'em. That's all. I swear, I won't touch anythin'. I'll just look at the screen and...and that's it. Please...just let me say goodbye."_

Khan closed his eyes; shook his head.

...It was for his own good. Seeing them would only––

The proximity alarm blared again.

Khan's eyes snapped open; darted between the sensor readout and the PADD.

 _McCoy jumped; his posture tensed; his desolate expression turned to horror._

" _No...Khan, please tell me that's not...tell me the Klingons didn't just warp in!"_

"Saying otherwise would be a lie," Khan admitted as he watched a Bird of Prey blink into the system. "However, it appears to be a single ship. Your people have a fighting chance."

" _A fighting chance?! But if they fight a Klingon ship, they'll start a war!"_

"At this point, doctor, I believe war is inevitable." The comm panel beeped; the Augment raised an eyebrow. "...Although it looks like Kirk wants to at least _attempt_ diplomacy."

" _You mean he's hailing them? Why the hell is he hailing them? Why is he not gettin' the hell outta here?"_

"Because if the Enterprise retreats, the Klingons will have no choice but to assume its presence here was an act of subterfuge; that the Federation is launching an attack. If they stay, they have a slim chance of evoking the treaty, and avoiding a war...a chance Kirk clearly intends to take."

For obvious reasons. Any...decent leader...would do the same.

The Augment ensured his encryption algorithms were in place; intercepted the audio signals being sent out by the Enterprise.

"–– _Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise. Hold your fire! We have not come here to––"_

" _Is that J...Kirk?" McCoy interrupted "Did you make contact with––"_

"No, doctor." Khan rolled his eyes. "I merely intercepted their communications. We can hear them; they cannot hear us. Do be quiet."

" _But I can barely hear him through the––"_

"You hear even _less_ when you refuse to _stop talking._ "

 _Finally, the doctor went quiet; pressed his right ear against the metal door._

Khan focused back on the transmission. It appeared the Klingons had actually elected to respond. For McCoy's sake, and the sake of his own sanity, he turned on the universal translator; turned up the volume.

"–– _mander Kol of the Great House Kor; Representative of the Klingon High Council. Lower your shields, Captain Kirk, and prepare to be boarded."_

Khan raised an eyebrow. He remembered researching Kol during his time in Section 31. A proud warrior, but far from the best diplomat in the Imperial Fleet. His twin brother, Kor, would have been far better suited to facilitate a negotiation...but that man was off on the Romulan front lines, bringing Honor and Glory to his name. He would only be recalled if his brother managed to get himself killed––

" _That's not gonna happen, Commander Kol." Kirk's voice was firm. "We have entered the Neutral Zone under Article Three, Section Five, of the Binary Star Accords, in pursuit of a terrorist. We have every right to––"_

" _I see no terrorists," Kol interrupted. "Just Federation spies, caught red–handed coming to collect data from a vessel that self–destructed weeks ago!"_

 _Kirk sucked in a breath. "It...it self–destructed?"_

" _Then you do not deny the existence of a Federation spy vessel in this region?" Kol demanded._

" _...I do not deny the existence of a vessel of Earth origins in this system," Kirk admitted. "But it was not a spy ship. Did you happen to pick up a distress signal before it exploded?"_

" _We did," Kol scoffed. "A clever addition to your ruse; one that brought us exactly where you wanted us...but having the ship detonate moments after we began scanning it was a fool's mistake. It was clearly a test of our shield and weapons capabilities; both of which you will have a chance to test_ first hand _if you do not––"_

" _This was not espionage!" Kirk insisted. "Look, I don't know why the ship self–destructed, but that distress call was real. One of my officers, Doctor Leonard McCoy, was kidnapped two months ago by a terrorist named Khan Noonien Singh. We think Doctor McCoy managed to subdue him...but if that ship really self–destructed, then there is a chance that Khan retook the ship and escaped; that he's still out here somewhere. If that's the case, we need to––"_

" _You expect me to believe that the Federation sent your ship into the Neutral Zone in search of two men?"_

" _When one of those men is a terrorist who has planted bombs throughout Federation space, then yes." Kirk's voice was flat. "Don't pretend you don't know that part: it was part of Doctor McCoy's distress call. If you are not willing to let us continue our search peace...then I demand a meeting with the_ entire _Klingon Council. Let_ them _decide whether or not our incursion is justified."_

The Augment heard a gasp from his captive.

" _What the hell! Did he seriously just––"_

"Do not make me come out there, doctor!"

 _McCoy cringed; once again pressed his ear to the door._

 _After a long, throaty laugh, Kol growled. "And why would I waste their time on something like this?"_

" _Because Honor demands you to do so," Kirk growled back. "We have been honest about our intentions; we have invoked a treaty_ your leaders _have sworn to follow. If you refuse this request, then you are breaking the word of the entire Klingon Empire! Do you_ dare _bring that kind of dishonor to your people?"_

For a moment, there was silence; then...finally…

" _I will relay your request to the rest of the Council. Do not attempt to flee, or I will obliterate you."_

 _Kirk snorted. "I wouldn't expect anything else. Kirk out."_

The line went dead.

...As difficult as it was to admit...Kirk had handled himself well. No backing down; no deceptions; he had not even apologized for entering the Neutral Zone. Klingons could sense weakness from a sector away, and had Kirk not been so bold, the crew of the Enterprise would already be fighting for their lives.

But the stalemate would not last. The odds were not high that Kirk would convince the Klingon High Council that his actions were in accordance with the treaty. In all likelihood, the captain had bought his crew a few hours of life; nothing––

" _Khan...ya gotta lower the cloak."_

The Augment blinked; frowned down at the PADD.

...McCoy had to be joking.

"Really, doctor? And why would I do that?"

"' _Cause if the Klingon High Council thinks Kirk's lying about why they came here, then the Enterprise is gonna be destroyed! We can't just...we need ta let 'em know we exist! We need ta––"_

"We do not need to do anything," Khan huffed. "Kirk has brought this upon himself doctor: he did not have to answer your distress signal; he especially did not have to do so without briefing the Klingons on the situation first. If his stupidity leads to a war, then so be it. At least then the Federation will have no choice but to release my people."

A part of Khan was actually...giddy...at this turn of events. He never dreamed he would have the gift of seeing the first shots fired; of knowing with certainty that––

" _And what if you're wrong?" McCoy demanded. "What if they don't let the Augments go? What if the war drags on, and the Federation gets desperate? What would stop 'em from doin' to_ all _your people what they did ta you? Or what if the Augments are in outposts close to the Klingon border, and get blown ta bits in the first week of battles? They can't be released if they're dead!"_

Khan clenched his jaw. " _Stop talking_ , doctor."

" _But what if that's what happens, Khan? And if the Enterprise gets blown up, then some of your people are definitely gonna––"_

"That's enough," the terrorist glared at his captive through the PADD. "I only promised _I_ would not destroy your ship. That does not mean I am going to risk my life, or the future of my people, in an attempt to save my enemies from their own––"

" _Goddammit!" McCoy's fist hit the door again. "Use that superpowered brain of yours, Khan! Doing nothing_ guarantees _your people will––"_

"ENOUGH!" Khan threw the PADD at the door; seethed. "Do you have any idea what I have been through? Do you have any idea what it is like to have everything you are stripped away; to be turned into nothing more than a _tool_ for some warmonger's schemes? To have everyone you love turned to bargaining chips? I have _earned_ this! I have _earned_ the right to watch the Federation burn! If you do not _shut your mouth_ so I can _enjoy_ this moment, I _will_ open this door, break both your legs, drag you to the viewscreen, and _force_ you to witness the obliteration of your friends! Do I make myself _absolutely––_ "

" _YOUR CREW IS ON THE ENTERPRISE!"_

Khan stiffened; his head tilted in shock.

...Had the man just said...

The Augment's eyes narrowed; fury rushed through his veins.

Had the doctor truly deceived him all this time?

It...it did not seem possible. He thought he had come to understand McCoy; to sense when the man was hiding something from him. And yet...

...If McCoy had known for _two months_ that most of Khan's crew was locked away in some _cargo bay_ on the Enterprise...there would be no mercy for him.

"Choose your next words carefully, doctor. How do you know that there are Augments on that ship?"

 _There was a pause; then, a dry, nervous laugh. "Look, my memory from your last chat with Kirk's a bit fuzzy...probably a side effect of tryin' not ta pass out after you broke my arm...but I'm pretty sure you gave Kirk three weeks to arrange the release of a quarter of your crew. Do ya really think he'd let any other ship take that job? And do ya really think they'd stop ta unload 'em all after they got my distress signal? If I had ta bet my life on a single spot in the_ universe _ta find members of your crew, I'd go for the Enterprise every time!"_

...Oh.

That was...a fair point. And far more...believable than his captive being able to hold onto a secret like that for so long.

...Kirk would never allow another vessel to take on that responsibility. Which meant––

" _Let's be conservative, and say they were still pickin' up 'passengers' when they got my distress signal," McCoy continued. "So they've got maybe, say, ten or fifteen of your friends. Who do ya think they are? Who are ya lettin' get blown ta smithereens by––"_

"Quiet!" Khan snapped, mind racing.

What if the doctor was right? What if the Enterprise had received McCoy's message _after_ collecting a quarter of his people?

...It would explain why none of his people had been delivered to Xedna Eight. If they thought he was incapacitated, there would have been no need to…

He needed evidence.

The Augment turned back to the sensor panel; scanned for lifesigns on the Enterprise; memorized the number. Then he crossed to the door; entered his security code.

McCoy jumped as the door opened, but held his ground. In less desperate circumstances, Khan might have been impressed...but there was no time to waste.

"Doctor, what is the Enterprise's typical complement? Be exact."

"Four hundred thirty," McCoy didn't hesitate. "That's what it'd be if Doctor Chapel's really replaced me, and they haven't lost anybody else since I came here. Maybe one or two in either direction, if––"

Khan grabbed his captive by the throat; snarled. "If you are _lying_ about that number, _doctor_ , I will––"

"For _Christ's sake_!" McCoy grimaced; glared. "I'm not lyin' about this! If you don't do something, those Klingons are gonna kill _everybody_ on the Enterprise––your people included! How many Augments are ya willin' ta lose today?"

Khan blinked; tried to stifle his...horror.

...He had detected four hundred forty–nine lifesigns on the Enterprise.

Nineteen lifesigns more than McCoy's claim.

Nineteen captive Augments.

 _Over_ a quarter of his people. On a vessel that was about to be destroyed.

...That...that could not happen. He had no idea which Augments were on that ship. There were people he needed: people whose skills were vital for their colony; old friends whose shared experiences could _prove_ Khan's identity! He could not just let them…

But if he lowered that cloak, he could lose everything. The Botany Bay might be destroyed on sight; then _twenty_ Augments would die.

...But if he did not take that risk...if he did not...

No!

He could not place the survival of his people in the hands of his enemies!

 _This_ was the day James T. Kirk, that stoic Vulcan, and their _entire crew_ of accomplices died _screaming_ ; it was _not_ the day that the most intelligent Human ever born _surrendered_ to those...those _insects_!

...But how could he sacrifice so many Augments? How could he––

"Please, Khan," McCoy's voice was quiet, but urgent. "There's not a lotta time. I know how much ya hate Kirk, and Spock, and the entire _two–faced Federation_ , but which do ya want more: the survival of your people, or your _goddamn_ revenge?"


	57. Chapter 57

Waiting sucked.

"Anything from Commander Kol yet, Uhura?"

"For the third time, Captain: no."

"Right...sorry."

Drooping in the command chair, Jim pinched the bridge of his nose; rubbed his eyes. Getting a stress migraine wouldn't help him negotiate with the Klingons...and it'd be even worse if he got one, and the talks turned into a firefight. All those flashing lights, and alarm noises, and...

He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He hoped the Klingon High Council had some members more reasonable than Commander Kol...but there was no way to know. Not until-

"Captain," Spock's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I am picking up another ship on short-range sensors."

Jim sat up, simultaneously confused and worried. "Where did it come from? I thought you said wasn't anything in our long range scans."

"I am...unsure," Spock admitted. "According to the sensor logs, it simply...appeared...in orbit above the M-class moon a moment ago. I do not recognize the design."

Well, that was...weird.

...And suspicious. There were only a few species with cloaking technologies.

"Run it through the Federation archives," Kirk ordered. "We need to figure out if this is some kind of Klingon trap."

"Searching…" After a moment, Spock stiffened slightly; tilted his head. "...Captain...the computer registers it as a DY–100 class vessel. The design is nearly three hundred years old."

Jim froze.

He...he couldn't've heard that right.

"...What?"

Spock turned to him. "Captain, based on these readings…I would hypothesise that the ship that just appeared is...the Botany Bay."

"But I thought…" Jim's voice cracked; he cleared his throat. "I thought Kol said that the Botany Bay self-destructed!"

"It appears that the Commander may have been mistaken," Spock straightened; quirked an eyebrow. "It is...odd, Captain: the hull resembles the most advanced ship built by Humanity during the Eugenics Wars...but it is outfitted with shield emitters. That technology was not available on Earth until well after First Contact."

"So Khan's made a few upgrades," Jim muttered. "Keep scanning, Mister Spock: if that is Khan's ship, then there's no telling what other tech he's packed into that rustbucket."

"I will do what I can, Captain, but our sensors are being scrambled by the electromagnetic distortion emanating from that moon."

"Understood," Jim nodded grimly. "Can you at least make out lifesigns?"

Spock crouched back over his monitor. "I am recalibrating the sensors to help compensate for the distortions…"

"And?"

"Barely...but yes. There are two lifesigns aboard the Botany Bay."

...Could they be that lucky? Could...

"That's a start," Jim said nervously. "Is one a normal Human?"

...If Khan had retaken the ship, then the other lifesign was probably the Augment Khan rescued well over a month before, and not…

But even _this_ was unbelievable. He couldn't give up. Not now.

As Spock reread the scans, Jim prayed to whatever might be listening that this would be one of those moments that the universe failed to act logically.

...But then his Vulcan friend's eyes widened slightly; his features went far too blank.

"I...am sorry," Spock said quietly. "They...both...appear to have Augment hormonal markers."

...Of course.

The laws of the universe were as cruel as ever.

Two Augments.

No one else.

The captain sagged in the chair tried to fight back the moisture at the corners of his eyes.

...Of course this was too good to be true. Of course...

"They killed him," Jim whispered. "Those monsters killed..."

...He'd been expecting this. He'd known for _months_ that the odds of getting Bones back alive weren't good. He'd tried to prepare for it...

But there's no such thing as preparing for the death of someone you love. Not really...

"Captain," Uhura said urgently. "We are being hailed."

...Right.

He didn't have time to grieve. Not yet.

"Thanks, Uhura." The captain straightened; cleared his throat. "So...the Klingons are probably gonna be even more pissed now. I guess I'll have to convince them we didn't know that ship was––"

"It's not just the Klingons," Uhura interjected. "I'm receiving two transmissions: one from the Klingons...and one from the Botany Bay."

...Oh.

"Of course," Jim muttered. "Why else would Khan pop out of nowhere? He wants to gloat."

...And bodies wouldn't show up on lifesign scans. Not with that much distortion. What if Khan was planning to show him Bones'...

Focus.

That terrorist still had bombs out there. As much as the captain wanted to make those Augmented monsters pay...they still needed Khan alive. They couldn't risk the Klingons blowing him out of the sky.

"Kol first, Uhura," Jim ordered. "They're gonna want answers."

"Yes, sir."

The captain blinked, and Commander Kol's painted, furious face was on the viewscreen.

"Your treachery knows no bounds, Kirk!" Kol snarled.

"I assume this means your sensors are detecting the same ship we are," Jim said. "I swear, Kol: we didn't know-"

"How many other Federation ships are hiding in this system? Tell me now!"

"The Enterprise is the only Federation vessel in the entire Neutral Zone," Jim said patiently. "We believe that _that_ ship is the Botany Bay. We identified it in our historical records. Whatever blew up on that moon must've been some kind of decoy created by Khan to-"

"If this 'Khan' is truly so dangerous, then why haven't you opened fire on that vessel?" Kol demanded. "Or are you waiting for the _real_ warriors to do your job for you?"

...Yep. Kol was getting a bit trigger happy for Jim's taste.

They couldn't let that ship be destroyed.

"Mister Sulu…Put us between the Botany Bay and that Bird of Prey."

Sulu turned to him; frowned. "Sir?"

The captain nodded grimly. "Do it, Sulu."

"You are _protecting_ them?!" Kol spat. "How _dare_ you claim they are your enemies, when you would shield them from destruction! Your lies are pathetic, Kir––"

"Did you forget the part about the bombs?" Jim snapped. "If that ship blows up, then _thousands_ of Federation civilians go with it! We have no choice but to make contact, and attempt to negotiate––"

"More _talk_ ," Kol growled. "All you Humans ever _do_ is talk!"

" _Talk_ is what's kept the Humans species from destroying itself," the captain reasoned. "It is what helped us find common ground between Vulcans, Andorians and Tellarites! And make no mistake: words can be weapons just as powerful as any blade. For the sake of transparency, I am going to have my communications officer send you our historical records on that ship, but if you fire so much as a disruptor at that ship, the Federation will consider it an act of war."

"Klingons _live_ for battle," Kol grinned. "Why would the thought of war with such a fragile power give us pause?"

"Because you can't afford it," Jim replied coolly. "The war with the Romulans has lasted far longer than you ever expected, and it's cost a lot more lives than can possibly be sustainable. You even lost your old Chancellor to a Romulan attack six months ago!"

Kol's smile faded; turned to a sneer. "You know nothing about-"

"I've had a lot of time lately to catch up on security briefings," Jim retorted. "And even if I hadn't, the fact that the High Council only sent one ship to intercept us is enough to tell me that your military is stretched thin. With Praxis in pieces, the Klingon Empire clearly doesn't have the resources to fight on two fronts. A war between our societies might weaken the Federation, but it would _devastate_ your people. Don't dishonor yourself by denying it."

As the Klingon opened his mouth to reply, something beeped on his control panel. He glanced down; blinked...then slowly looked back up, glaring.

"...The High Council has been listening to this conversation," Kol's tone was far more subdued than it had been a moment before. "For his...amusement...our Chancellor is willing to allow you to attempt...negotiations...with that vessel. The Chancellor will watch the proceedings, and determine the truth of your claims for himself."

...Wait, really?

"I accept those terms," Jim said before the Klingons could change their minds. "Go ahead and patch them through."

A moment later, Uhura had the viewscreen split between Kol's ship, and a gathering hall crowded with around thirty Klingons.

"Begin your negotiations," Kol demanded.

"We were about to," Jim replied. "Uhura, answer Khan's hail."

As the best communications officer in the fleet set up another channel, Jim rubbed his eyes again; tried to steel himself for whatever he might be about to see. He hoped Khan wouldn't be cruel enough to make him see Bones' body...but it was a possibility.

Keep it together. Too many lives were at stake here. He had to keep-

"Hello, Kirk." A cheery, too-familiar voice called out to him.

"...Khan," The captain grimaced; looked up. "What made you decide to…"

Jim trailed off, mouth wide with shock.

Khan grinned at him from a third partition of the screen...and he wasn't alone.

He almost didn't recognize his friend at first. Bones' face was much thinner than it had been three weeks before; he was wearing a sweat-drenched red t-shirt. His shaggy hair was strangely damp; slicked back in some places, and sticking out at odd angles in others; the man's beard, oddly enough, looked a little shorter than the last time Jim had seen it...

The electromagnetic distortion must have messed with the sensors more than they thought. There was no other explanation for why Bones had registered as an Augment...

But he was alive.

That was all that really mattered, wasn't it?

"Bones!" Jim felt tears in the corners of his eyes; blinked them back. "You're...God, it's so good to see you! Are you alright?"

His friend looked nervously at his captor. Khan raised eyebrow; nodded.

Bones turned back to the screen...but didn't smile.

"I'm fine, Kirk."

Jim blinked; his relieved grin fell away.

...The last time Bones called him Kirk, he'd been pissed that Jim'd wandered off during a diplomatic feast, and gotten them all accused of being assassins. Why would-

"This is ridiculous!" Kol hissed. "I watched that Human beg for rescue; saw the terror in his eyes at the mere _prospect_ of you recapturing him! If you are truly enemies, then why is that sniveling _toDSaH_ still breathing?"

"My reasons for keeping him alive are mine, and mine alone," Khan smirked; draped an arm around his captive's shoulders. "Let's just say McCoy and I came to...well, let's call it...an _agreement_...after his escape attempt. As long as he continues to uphold his end of that agreement, his life remains...pleasant."

...What the hell did that mean?

"Khan," Jim hoped his nerves weren't showing in his voice. "Torturing Doctor McCoy won't help you get your people-"

"Who said anything about torture?"

The terrorist pulled his captive closer, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Bones jumped; his eyes went wide.

Jim felt the blood drain from his face.

The doctor flinched as Khan's lips connected again; this time with a spot behind his left ear. Bones' cheeks flushed red; his head fell forward, eyes focused on the floor.

That...that bastard hadn't...

"How...how dare you," Jim seethed. "This crosses a line, Khan. The last line I thought you had. I swear, whatever you've done to him––"

"Is none of your business," Khan huffed. "Honestly, you should just be happy he is _alive_ : if I were not so forgiving, his dismembered corpse would have turned to ash _weeks_ ago."

Bones grimaced; didn't look up.

Jim's stomach clenched.

...God...how close had it been? How close had his friend come to...

They had to get Leonard out of there. Whatever he'd been...forced...to do to survive...they'd help him work through it. They'd...

"Can we get on with this?" Khan sighed; ran a hand through Bones' messy hair. "The sooner you agree to my terms, the sooner this man can begin his therapy."

"Terms?" Jim scowled. "Khan, your ship is basically defenseless. The electromagnetic interference coming from that moon makes that planet-jumping transporter useless, and even if it didn't-"

"I am well aware that you have me cornered," the terrorist interrupted. "But as you told our Honorable friend moments ago: if you destroy my vessel, thousands die...including your CMO."

...Had...had Khan been listening in on their transmissions to Kol's ship the entire time?

...They'd deal with that later. There was a lot they'd have to deal with later...

"You're right, Khan," the captain admitted. "I want to resolve this without anybody else getting hurt. What are the terms of your surrender?"

The Augment chuckled. "Oh, no! I am not _surrendering_ , Kirk. I am proposing...well, let's call it an armistice. In exchange for the locations and deactivation codes of all my bombs, the Federation will free my people, and help us establish a colony on this moon."

...What?

"A colony?" Jim repeated. "You want the Federation to help you start...a colony...in the middle of the Neutral Zone?"

"You are a very good at parrot, Kirk," Khan nodded. "Yes, I want to establish an Augment-only colony on that moon; one that will be completely independent from Federation law...but supplied by the Federation on a regular basis."

...Seriously?

"So let me get this straight," Jim felt a migraine forming. "You want us to help you establish a colony in one of the most dangerous parts of space, have us run a supply route to that colony...and have zero control over what you do there?"

"I think that after the crimes your people have committed against mine, this is the least you can do," Khan said flatly.

"Oh, come on, Khan! This is the Neutral Zone! Establishing a colony in this part of space is explicitly forbidden by the Treaty of the Binary-"

"Then rewrite the treaty!" The terrorist snapped; Bones flinched again. "Tear the treaty to shreds, and begin anew if you have to! I refuse to let my people spend the rest of their lives under the Federation's tyranny!"

Before Jim could respond, Kol cut in.

"The Federation's tyranny!" The Klingon laughed. "The Federation is a collection of weak fools who clustered together for their very survival! And you stand here, begging them to-"

"I am not _begging_ for anything," the Augment growled. "Men like me _take_ what we need."

"By hiding behind hostages like a _coward_ ," Kol sneered. "By attacking your enemies from a _distance_ , so that no harm can come to your soft Human skin!"

"I am no coward!" Khan declared. "I have done only what was necessary to secure a home for my people...as I will do again, if you are brave enough to accept my challenge."

...His what?

"Challenge?" Kol scoffed. "Are you challenging me to combat, Human?"

"Hand–to–hand combat," Khan confirmed. "And not just you. To prove my bravery and skill, I am willing to fight a representative from every House on the High Council!"

For a moment, everyone was silent...then the Klingons roared with laughter.

"Twenty–four Klingons?!" Kol cackled. "You believe you can kill twenty–four Klingons in hand–to–hand combat?!"

"I believe I could kill a _hundred_ Klingons in hand–to–hand combat," Khan smirked. "But I am not bloodthirsty enough to attempt it."

Could...could Khan actually do that? Sure, the man had once taken out at least that many Klingons when they met him on Qo'noS, but he'd had the element of surprise, and a freaking cannon, and…

"Do you have any idea what it means to battle a Klingon?" Kol snarled. "We become warriors the moment we can hold a blade!"

"Oh, believe me, I know the risks," Khan's mouth became a thin line. "But you are not the only ones who have been trained to _kill_ since childhood. And when I win, the the Klingon Empire will grant permission for my people to establish a colony on the moon below. You will not harass us in any way. We will be left to live our lives in peace."

" _Peace_?" Kol snarled. "What peace could ever be found by placing a Federation colony so close to Klingon territory?"

"My people are not a part of the Federation," Khan said calmly. "We were born nearly three hundred years ago, but went into stasis after a series of horrific wars occurred on Earth."

...It wasn't lost on the captain that those wars were caused _by_ Khan's people...but for the sake of their negotiations, it seemed like a bad idea to bring that up.

"It's true," Jim admitted. "Khan's people are from a time before Humans invented warp drive. Most of them have never even been taken out of stasis...and none of them are official citizens of the Federation."

"And we have no desire to be," Khan said flatly. "Ever. When I win the right to colonize this moon, I vow to ensure my people remain neutral in all disputes between the Federation and Klingon Empire. We simply want a chance to live in peace, and we will not fight unless provoked into defending ourselves."

"Again, you speak of _peace_!" Kol laughed. "You are a fool: there can be no peace between Humans and Klingons, no matter what allegiance you claim––"

"Enough, Kol."

The order came from a Klingon seated in the middle of the High Council table. He seemed pretty young to be on the council, let alone in a position to make a blowhard like Kol clam up...but that's exactly what happened.

The Klingon rose; the shift caused light to glint off a silver medallion draped around his neck.

"I am Gorkon, Son of Melrok––"

"Chancellor of the Klingon High Council," Khan continued; gave a small bow. "It is an honor to meet you. I am Khan Noonien Singh: Emperor of the Human Augments."

...Well, that was one way to put it.

"Emperor," Gorkon mused; shook his head. "Emperors have _empires_ , Khan Noonien Singh. Where is your empire?"

Khan's smirk wavered; Bones gasped in pain as the terrorist's fingers dug into his shoulder.

Jim's blood pressure started to rise again. "Stop it, Khan! You're hurting––"

"Allow me, Captain," the Chancellor interrupted. "Khan, I thought you said you would not harm your prisoner. Is your Honor as superficial as your title?"

The Augment scowled; looked down at his hand as if realizing for the first time what he was doing; immediately loosened his grip.

Bones sagged; looked into the camera, eyes full of gratitude and embarrassment.

"It was unintentional," Khan admitted. "I sometimes forget how frail McCoy is; how easy it is to hurt someone without my...enhancements."

"Enhancements," Gorkon repeated. "You call yourself an Emperor; claim you are superior to other Humans. What basis do you have for these claims?"

"My heritage," the Augment replied. "My people were genetically engineered to be physically and mentally superior to our ancestors. If we had not been driven from Earth-"

"You fled?" The Chancellor tilted his head. "Your 'superior' civilization failed so miserably, you had to leave your planet?"

Khan's eye twitched. "We were outnumbered, millions to one. Even so, we might have succeeded in our ambitions, had those idiots not resorted to nuclear war. They almost destroyed themselves out of their fear and hatred towards us."

"And if you had not felt the need to _flee_ , what then?" Gorkon asked. "What did you plan to do with the world you conquered?"

"Bring it to order," Khan replied. "Offer it a respite from millennia of bloodshed and violence; from the lie that-"

"And yet now you claim to want nothing but a peaceful existence on a technology-stunting rock," Gorkon huffed; shifted his gaze. "Captain Kirk, was it?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, Chancellor. I would just like to say-"

"Save your explanations, Captain." The Chancellor's face grew serious. "Just tell me: if we were to humor this man's ridiculous challenge, would the Federation honor the outcome?"

Jim blinked. "What do you mean?"

"From what I understand, that man's death will lead to the slaughter of Federation civilians," Gorkon said. "Would the Federation hold the Klingon Empire responsible for this?"

...Was he serious? Were the Klingons really willing to-

"Chancellor!" Kol hissed, clearly outraged. "You cannot seriously be considering-"

"Preventing us from entering into a needless conflict?" The Chancellor hissed right back. "Ensuring that we can keep all our military resources devoted to vanquishing the Romulans-our _Blood Enemies_ -once and for all? For years, my father threatened the Federation; claimed that someday, we would drink bloodwine from the skulls of the Federation Council. What did that hostility ever get us? Nothing but a few minor skirmishes; a division of resources; and a constant _distraction_ from those that would actually do us harm! We cannot afford that. Not anymore."

...Holy shit. He was serious.

When Kol didn't respond, Gorkon snorted; turned back to Jim. "What do you say, Captain Kirk: will the Federation honor the outcome, or are we headed for a long, bloody war?"

"...One moment, Chancellor." Jim stood; crossed to his first officer. "Spock...what do you make of this? Do we have any real options here?"

"...This is not the ideal solution," Spock said honestly. "Allowing the Augments to colonize a moon so close to Klingon space could be disastrous...and allowing Khan to lead them is...unsettling...at best."

"Unsettling," Khan hummed. "Do not tell me your emotions are slipping again? How embarrassing that must be for you."

Spock's eyes flicked to the terrorist; back at Jim. "...However, under Klingon law, any Klingon that breaks the word of the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council forfeits their life and House. Given that all other options at our disposal inevitably lead to thousands of civilian casualties...either through terrorism or war...I believe this is the most logical solution."

...Well, if Spock couldn't come up with anything better...this was probably the way to go.

"Thanks, Spock." Jim hurried back to his chair "Chancellor Gorkon...if you also give your word that the Klingon Empire will actually yield this moon to the Augments if Khan wins the challenge...then the Federation will abide by either outcome. I will see to it myself."

"That is the best decision you have ever made, Kirk" Khan quipped; his eyes shifted focus. "Honorable Chancellor: from what I have heard, your heir is not yet old enough to hold a blade. You should consider that a blessing: it gives you the freedom to choose a champion you do not particularly like."

Chancellor Gorkon snorted. "I will give you this, Khan Noonien Singh: you are bold...but still a fool. Our champions will arrive in the Quel-Nok System in a little under twelve hours. I hope that is enough time for you to prepare for death."

Khan nodded. "That will be plenty of time to find a suitable location for the fight...as long as the Enterprise is willing to scout the moon's surface. I do not have the luxury of a shuttle."

"Deal with the arrangements however you see fit," Gorkon said. "It is your last day alive, after all."

"Thank you, Chancellor," the Augment grinned. "I promise you: this will be a day the Klingon Empire never forgets."

The Klingons laughed again; Gorkon made a motion with his hand.

The feed to both the High Council chamber and Kol's ship abruptly cut out, leaving only Khan and Bones on screen.

"...Alone at last," The terrorist raised an eyebrow. "I suggest you begin sending out shuttles now, Kirk. The faster you find a suitable location for my settlement, the faster we can go our separate ways."

"And what about B...Doctor McCoy?" There was no way in hell Jim was leaving that up in the air. "When will you release him?"

"I need someone to help me revive my people," Khan shrugged. "He will remain with me until that task is complete, and we have cobbled together the basic necessities of our settlement."

The captain bristled. "Haven't you put him through enough? You can't––"

"Why don't we get a doctor's opinion on this?" The terrorist patted his captive's shoulder. "What do you think, McCoy? Is it safe for me to revive that many people without a doctor nearby?"

Bones hesitated a moment; when he spoke, his voice was quiet, but firm. "...He's right, Kirk. If these people are gonna have a shot, then they need ta be revived properly. Khan can't do it alone."

"What if we revived them before the transfer?" Jim suggested. "We have a full medical staff over here: there's no need for you to––"

"Not happenin'," Bones...glared. "I want _all_ of 'em ta wake up, not for half of 'em ta end up in body bags."

The comment took Jim aback.

A quick glance around the room proved he was not the only one. Sulu's brows were knit together; Chekov's mouth was hanging open; Uhura's eyes were wide; Hendorff kept blinking...even Spock's eyebrows were up by his bangs.

...So it wasn't his imagination. His best friend had really just accused them of...

"...Bones," Jim said carefully. "I don't know what Khan's told you, but we'd _never_ ––"

"The good doctor knows _exactly_ what Starfleet is capable of, Kirk," Khan had a gleam in his eyes that Jim really didn't like. "And he has made his decision. I do not intend to keep McCoy from his daughter indefinitely, but I will not risk _my_ family to hurry him home...And just so we are perfectly clear: for every one of my people that does not survive the revival process, you lose the location and deactivation code for one bomb. Does that seem fair?"

The captain's jaw clenched.

Did Khan really think they would hurt...

...Right.

Somebody already had.

They still didn't know who'd sterilized the female Augments; there was no telling if they'd try to pull something again if they got wind of this deal...just like there was no telling what Khan would do when he found out what had happened...

"Fair...no," Jim replied. "But I believe you. We will do everything in our power to deliver your people safely...if you survive your fight with the Klingons."

Khan raised an eyebrow. "You should hope that I do, Kirk: I never wrote those deactivation codes down. If I die today, I am taking the Federation with me."


	58. Chapter 58

_Bat'leth_ , or broadsword?

Khan's eyes darted back and forth between the two weapons. The armory he had emassed during his raids was...extensive...but as Starfleet preferred long–range, less–lethal weapons like phasers, and the occasional, utilitarian knife, these two blades he had scavenged from a wall of the admiral's office on Xedna Eight were his only real options.

For a challenge like this, the Klingons would only use _bat'leths_ and _d'k tahgs:_ close–range weapons that let them feel their enemies' blood spatter against their skin.

...And they would likely consider a Human using such a weapon to be laughable...which could allow him to pick off his first few opponents before they even knew what was happening.

Khan picked up the bat'leth; tested its balance.

"Hey...Khan?"

The Augment paused at the sound of his captive's voice. He had decided to stop by the armory before returning McCoy to the medbay; had simply deposited the man in an empty corner of the room while he searched for an appropriate weapon. When the doctor returned to his people, he would be able to confirm that the Augments were heavily armed; that any attempts to take over their colony would be met with deadly force.

He doubted the Federation would risk that after their new treaty with the Klingons was solidified...but the extra incentive couldn't hurt.

Khan turned; smiled at his captive. "Yes, what is it, doctor?"

"Look, I know you're excited 'bout your fight, but can I go back to the medbay?" McCoy gingerly pinched a damp section of his t–shirt; gestured to it with a grimace. "I'd really like ta get cleaned up...And maybe prep a trauma kit while I'm there."

Khan huffed; the blade sang as he gave it a few practice slices through empty air. "Do you really want to waste your time with that? It is not like I will be needing it."

"You're going up against twenty–four Klingon warriors, Khan," the doctor fidgeted. "That's...well...a lot of variables. Even if ya win, you could still––"

"Oh, I am going to win," he twirled the _bat'leth_ in his hands. "Do you truly think I would make a challenge like that if there was any doubt in my mind about the outcome?"

"But what if you're wrong?" McCoy asked. "What if something happens, and you lose? Or what if ya win, but get hurt so bad that I can't fix––"

"Fine," Khan let the _bat'leth_ drop to his side. "If you are that concerned, then we'll go pack a trauma kit."

The doctor...cringed. "...You can just drop me off, if ya want. I know what needs ta go in it."

"But I do not," the Augment reminded him. "And as I am forced to return you to the Federation in a few days' time. It seems prudent for me to learn as much about modern medicine as I can before that happens."

"...Right," McCoy muttered; looked at the floor. "That's...right."

Khan frowned.

"...Is everything alright, McCoy?"

"It's nothing..." The doctor shrugged; winced. "Just a weird morning, is all."

...Ah.

"Your shoulder is bothering you," Khan noted. "I truly am sorry about that: Chancellor Gorkon hit upon a...sensitive...topic, and I forgot––"

"You've got it," McCoy interrupted. "Hurt shoulder. So just bring me back to the medbay, and I'll run a dermal regenerator over this thing, and get a shower so I don't smell like sweat for the rest of the day, and then when ya come back at lunch we can prep the trauma kit. Sound good?"

...Lunch was still _hours_ away. Why was the doctor suddenly in such a rush to be rid of him?

"Alright," Khan set the _bat'leth_ on top of a storage crate; turned back to his captive. "What is wrong? The _full_ truth this time, if you would."

McCoy tensed. "Like...like I said, my shoulder hurts...and I smell like a gym...and you've got a lotta stuff ta do before we can land, and I'd just be in the way if ya had ta drag me around––"

" _Doctor_!"

The man flinched. After a moment, his shoulders drooped; he looked at the floor.

"You...You kissed me," McCoy said quietly. "You made 'em think that I...that we...why did ya have ta do that?"

...Oh.

...That.

The Augment's irritation faded; he leaned against the storage crate; shrugged.

"It made things...simpler."

" _Simpler_?" The doctor stared. "In what universe does somethin' like that make things _simpler_? My god, man! What were you––"

"Don't hyperventilate, McCoy." Khan rolled his eyes. "The real reasons you are alive are...complicated. Far more so than I had the time or patience to explain to a horde of angry Klingons and your idiotic Captain. It truly _was_ simpler to imply a scenario so...horrific...that no one would feel the need to inquire any further."

Plus, the looks on both Kirk and Spock's faces were priceless. There was something...delicious...about weaponizing an enemy's imagination. And...permanent. He suspected that, no matter how vehemently McCoy denied his insinuations, some part of them would always...wonder.

"...Oh." McCoy muttered; shuffled uncomfortably. "Well...I...um...I still don't like it––"

"I never expected you to _like_ it." Khan interrupted. "You are my captive, and I kissed you without warning. I was half–surprised you didn't start shouting obscenities then and there...But I promise: that ruse will never go any further than it already has. Despite what I want your captain to think, I _do_ have lines that I refuse to cross."

The doctor snorted; then froze.

Khan raised an eyebrow; tilted his head. "...Was there something amusing about my last comment?"

"...It's nothin.'" McCoy mumbled. "Forget about––"

"No, please," He took a step towards his captive. "Fill me in on the joke."

The man grimaced. "Come on, Khan...can't you just––"

" _Now_ , doctor."

"It's just...um…" McCoy hesitated. "...Look, before I say this, I wanna stress that I really appreciate how hard ya've been tryin' ta put up with me lately, and I like ta think you've turned over a new leaf, given how patient––"

"Skip to the end."

His captive cringed; looked at the floor again. "It's just...A couple weeks ago, I...I woke up in a hospital gown...tied to a biobed...and you said ya'd spent the past six days curing me...but the only thing I really remember from those six days is...terror and nausea and...agony...and before that, you were gonna kill me...you even made me pick how it was gonna happen...and before that, you broke my arm and leg...and before that...the um...water––"

"Enough," Khan cut him off, understanding exactly where the doctor's train of thought was headed.

As much as he hated to admit it...his captive had a point. How could he expect McCoy to believe...that...was beneath him, after all he'd put the man through?

...After all he'd...

Another...more worrisome...thought wormed its way into Khan's mind.

In a few short days, McCoy was going to be interacting with the other Augments. Confused Augments. Augments demanding answers.

There were only two people who could supply them, and even if Khan was able to convince them of his identity...McCoy would still be asked his share of questions.

Eventually, they would ask McCoy about his time in captivity; about how Khan had treated him.

Some of his people wouldn't care about the kidnapping, or the threats, or even the torture. Some would even find it...amusing.

But a few of them...a few of them would be appalled. Perhaps even appalled enough to attempt a coup.

...Isolating the doctor wasn't an option. It would rouse far more suspicion than it was worth. And even if he kept McCoy confined to the medbay until his release, Khan _wanted_ the man to teach Gideon Hawkins, and a few other Augments, as much about modern medicine as he could. That task _alone_ would require a great deal of time; a great deal of...conversation.

What McCoy said when that occurred could be the difference between the establishment of a peaceful colony...or one embroiled in civil war.

...That was a risk too great to leave to chance.

Khan straightened his posture; drew a deep breath.

"...Doctor...there is something we need to discuss."

McCoy immediately tensed; his eyebrows pinched with worry. "And...what would that be?"

"You must know by now that I do not...relish...the pain I have caused," Khan crossed within arm's reach of his captive; gave a remorseful sigh. "I am simply fighting back against a lifetime of mistreatment and abuse. I do what I must to procure safety for my people...can you understand that?"

"...Sure. Ya'v got a conscience, Khan...turnin' off that cloak proved––"

"But some of my people will not understand the...tactics...I have used to procure their freedom." He rested a careful hand on McCoy's good shoulder. "Your existence in particular will raise...uncomfortable...questions. Questions that would be easily dismissed if your future resided on our colony...but as your departure in a few days' time will make it clear that you were a hostage and not an ally, there is something I need you to do for me."

The captive swallowed. "...What do ya need me ta––"

"Do not tell them what I have done. Not the bombs; not the pilot; not the Federation outposts...and _especially_ not what I have done to you."

McCoy blinked. "Wait...you wanna keep 'em in the dark about––"

"Not. One. Word." Khan ordered. "My people need to be _eased_ into their new reality. It will be difficult enough to convince my people that I am truly Khan Noonien Singh; I do not need you sabotaging my efforts––"

" _Sabotage_?" His captive gaped. "Khan, I don't wanna sabotage you. I _want_ you and your people ta live in peace; ta have a chance at––"

"That had better be true, doctor." Slowly, deliberately, Khan slid his hand up from the man's shoulder; wrapped it around his throat. "Because if you tell them what I have done, you will spend the rest of your time here _gasping_ for air through a water–soaked rag."

McCoy's breath spasmed; his eyes went impossibly wide.

"N–no...Please, I–I swear, I'm not lyin! I won't sabotage anything! Ya...ya don't need ta do that!"

To Khan's surprise, he found the doctor's unrestrained terror...horribly upsetting.

"I do not _want_ to hurt you."

The words left the Augment's mouth before he could stop them.

Khan wordlessly scolded himself for the slip.

Had he truly become this soft? Had he…

...Right.

 _That_ had been half the point of keeping McCoy alive, hadn't it? To exercise the skills necessary for effective leadership. One could not master the arts of patience, fairness, tact, and restraint without utilizing _some_ degree of empathy...no matter how...distracting...that phenomena could become.

It had taken a great deal of effort fostering camaraderie with the doctor...and in a moment of panic, he had almost thrown it all away.

There had to be a way to persuade McCoy that silence was his only safe option; one that did not dismantle their new civility.

...Perhaps a few...carefully chosen...details about some of his people would work. If his captive was too afraid to confide in the other Augments, none of the bleeding hearts would ever know the truth.

It was the simplest option.

He released McCoy's throat; suppressed a grimace as the doctor pressed himself into the corner; kept his eyes focused on the floor.

"I am sorry, McCoy," Khan shook his head; sighed. "That was...far out of line. There is no need for that threat. Not after all we have been through together. Wouldn't you agree?"

"...S–sure," the terrified man nodded vigorously. "Like I said, I won't––"

The Augment held up a hand for silence; waited to speak until his captive's breathing had evened out.

"McCoy...I need you to understand: I am...asking...you to keep these secrets for your own safety. There are...things...I have not told you about my people. Things I am not proud of."

His captive eyed him suspiciously. "...What things?"

"Not all of my people have my...conscience," Khan explained. "My leadership; my laws...they are all that prevented some Augments from going on killing sprees; from treating normal humans like disposable toys of...one variety or another."

McCoy blinked; his eyes went wide again. "Are...are you tryin' ta say––"

"Don't play dumb, doctor. You know what I mean."

His captive swallowed. "I...I thought ya said your people just wanted freedom."

"I did," Khan nodded. "And they do. A condition for securing a cryostasis chamber on the Botany Bay––a condition for escaping the Eugenics Wars––was for all my followers to swear to abide by my laws when we reached our new home...no matter where it was. Every single Augment in my crew agreed to those terms...even Zuleika."

"Who...who is Zuleika?"

...It truly was easy to lead the man where he needed to go.

"Zuleika was my best agent during the Eugenics Wars," Khan explained. "And also my most ruthless. On multiple occasions, when tasked with eliminating enemy generals, she murdered their entire families. Her youngest victim was three years old."

"Good god!" McCoy gasped. "How could––"

"We were at war," Khan shook his head. "The child was old enough to remember her face; to expose her cover. I did not approve...even if I understood. But what I did not understand was her attempt to keep a...harem...of captured soldiers."

"No..." The doctor whispered. "Ya mean she––"

"Until I made an edict expressly forbidding the practice," Khan huffed. "Honestly, I did not think something like that had to be codified into law...but she proved me wrong."

McCoy stared. "How...how could ya let someone like that aboard your ship? How could ya––"

"She was also one of my most loyal followers," Khan said. "When I gave an order, she followed it without question. She saved my life on multiple occasions…"

And almost ended it during his rescue operation a month and a half before.

If he was going to have any chance of regaining his position, then he _needed_ to convince not only Zuleika of his identity, but Joaquin as well. Without the support of his two most loyal subjects, he would be deposed within a week.

...But that was a challenge for another day.

"And Zuleika is not the only Augment you will meet with...questionable...morals," Khan continued. "Joaquin has a temper that makes me look simply serene: I had to personally break him out of a maximum security prison in Israel after his most...public...rampage. And Elroy...well...the wider his smile, the faster you should run."

McCoy's adam's apple bobbed violently as he swallowed; shuddered.

"But...they'll listen to you? If you can convince...once they realize who you are, they––"

"To an extent, yes," Khan shrugged. "But in every society, there are a number of...unspoken laws. Instances when a leader says something is forbidden, but their actions negate their edicts."

"So…" The doctor sucked in a shaky breath; let it out. "You're sayin' that...if they find out about the bombs, or about how ya treated me at first––"

"Then no matter what declarations I make, they will believe I no longer disapprove of that behavior; that they have _permission_ to turn normal humans into their...playthings." Khan took hold of McCoy's scruffy chin; forced his gaze. "For the next few days, you are going to be the only normal human on our entire moon...and try as I might, I cannot be at your side at all times."

He let McCoy fill in his meaning. It wasn't that difficult.

The poor man's jaw began to quiver.

"...Oh god...no..."

"Have I made the situation clear?"

"...Yeah," McCoy whispered. "I...I won't tell. I promise...your people'll never know what you did t...what you had to do ta save 'em."

Relieved, Khan slipped his hand back to the doctor's shoulder; gave him a reassuring smile.

"I will do what I can to keep you safe, McCoy...Just trust me, and you will make it home."


	59. Chapter 59

Jim fidgeted in his office chair; tapped his fingers against his desk; stared at the blank monitor.

They'd been trying to contact Khan for over twenty minutes...and still hadn't gotten a response.

What the hell could that psychopath be doing? Was this some kind of power trip; a way to get into their heads even more than he already––

"Captain," Spock said from his seat at Jim's right. "Would you mind...not...doing that with your fingers?"

Jim smiled sheepishly; clasped his hands together. "Sorry, Spock. I didn't know it bugged you."

"It does not 'bug' me, Captain," Spock said unconvincingly. "It is merely an––"

"Captain," Uhura's voice cut in over the intercom. "Khan's finally responding to our hail."

...Finally.

The captain looked over at Spock; took a deep breath; pressed the comm button.

"Thanks, Uhura. Please patch him into my office."

A moment later, Khan's face flicked onto the monitor.

...But Bones wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Where is Doctor McCoy?" Jim tried to keep the worry out of his voice; was pretty sure he'd failed miserably.

"Hello to you too, Kirk," Khan shot him an amused glance. "My dear doctor is resting. The next few days are going to be quite...long...for him. He has an entire society to revive, after all, and I want him at his best."

"...Right."

...At least he was letting Bones get some sleep. That was...that was a good sign.

"I assume you did not contact me to inquire about my doctor's wellbeing," the terrorist smirked. "Have you found a suitable location for my colony?"

...Bones wasn't _'his'_ doctor. He wasn't...

Focus.

"...We have," Jim tapped out a command on the monitor; a set of coordinates appeared on the screen. "It's right along the moon's equator, which seems to keep an average temperature of twenty one degrees Celsius. The spot's far away from any volcanic mountain ranges; elevated enough to avoid major flooding; and has an abundance of flat, open spaces for building houses, farms, and anything else your people might need."

"And what about biological hazards?" Khan asked. "Any large predators on the loose? Or unusual pathogens?"

The captain shook his head. "Nothing that we've found so far...but with the amount of electromagnetic interference this moon generates, we can't make any promises."

"I suppose that will have to do," Khan nodded. "Very well: in three hours, I will land the Botany Bay at the coordinates you provided. That should give me time to survey the land; determine an ideal place for the battle; and have something to eat before the excitement begins."

...That psychopath was still treating this like some kind of game...

Jim drew a deep breath; let it out. "Khan, we want to send out a message to Starfleet Command explaining what's happening here...but it won't reach them without the Xedna Eight subspace beacon to relay the transmission. If you really want your people back, then you need to reactivate––"

"I am aware of that," the Augment interrupted. "And I am also well aware of the dwindling time limit on my bombs. After I win this moon, I will reactivate the subspace beacon. You may contact Starfleet while I send out a code to prevent my leverage from, to use an appropriate cliche, going up in flames."

...Smartass.

"How long will the reset last?" Spock asked.

Khan raised an eyebrow. "That is information you do not need. Suffice it to say that as long as Starfleet is prompt in delivering my people to our new home, no more Federation citizens will die in our little war."

"It's gonna take time to bring them here," Jim reminded him. "There's a lot of empty space...and a lot of pulsars...between this moon and the closest Starfleet ships."

The Augment rolled his eyes. "Kirk, you and I both know that Starfleet has a formula for transwarp beaming."

"Transwarp beaming is still an experimental technology," Spock interjected. "One which currently can only guarantee matter is beamed to within three meters of its targeted coordinates. Your people are encased in cryotubes that could be easily damaged by collisions caused by this uncertainty. If you truly want your crew back unharmed, it would be logical to give us time to bring them here by ship."

The terrorist scowled...then paused; tilted his head; gave a half–nod.

"A fair point," Khan admitted. "Just remember: every moment's delay will be another moment your friend spends by my side."

"Trust me, we know," the captain said flatly. "But like you've said: if one your people dies on the way here, you're gonna let a bomb go off. Doctor McCoy will understand the delay."

...God, he hoped so.

"Perhaps," Khan smirked. "Now, in the spirit of moving these proceeding along as quickly as possible, there is a particular member of my crew I would like released as soon as possible."

...Well, that sounded suspicious.

"And who would that be?" Jim asked.

"A man named Gideon Hawkins," the Augment said. "He is approximately 1.77 meters tall, and weighs about 73 kilograms. He is of African descent, with black hair and dark brown eyes, and he has a tattoo of a trumpet on his left wrist. If he is not among the nineteen members of my crew currently on the Enterprise, then you need to send for him as soon as I reactivate the subspace beacon."

...Had...had they ever told Khan how many of his people were aboard? How had he...

Another problem for later. Fantastic.

"What's so special about him?"

"He is a doctor," Khan explained. "A fantastic one...but one whose training is currently hundreds of years behind. I need to bring him up to speed."

"You mean you're gonna make Doctor McCoy run himself ragged teaching this new doctor how to use modern medical equipment," Jim translated.

"You always think the worst of me, Kirk," Khan shook his head. "It is true that I plan to have McCoy provide a number of lessons in essential pieces of equipment...but I also liberated a number of Starfleet medical texts from Xedna Eight. Those should expedite Doctor Hawkins' education, as long as you also supplement our colony with an up–to–date library of Starfleet medical research. Paper copies as well as digital, if you would."

The captain ignored the comment about 'liberating' those files; made himself nod. "That won't be a problem. Distribution of medical texts and papers falls within Starfleet's humanitarian directives. We'll get you everything you need to treat your people."

"That is good to hear," the terrorist huffed. "Because if you were to deny me that information, I would be forced keep Doctor McCoy here until he taught Doctor Hawkins _everything_ he knows. The poor man likely would not see his daughter until her thirteenth birthday."

"Holding Doctor McCoy for an entire year would be akin to murder," Spock interjected.

A...frown...formed on Khan's face. "How so?"

Jim blinked; gave Spock a confused glance. The quirk in his first officer's eyebrow confirmed that he'd heard the terrorist right.

"...His xenopolycythemia," the captain said slowly. "The surgery is only effective in the first few months of the condition. Doctor McCoy is running out of time."

If this mess got dragged out another couple months, they'd be completely reliant on Ambassador Spock's cure to save him...and the Ambassador'd made it clear that his cure was far from painless. And if the stalemate lasted over a year...

They couldn't lose Bones like that. Not when they were so close to having him back.

"Ah, yes," Khan smirked. "His xenopolycythemia. Of course. Well, once again, expedience is in all of our interests, wouldn't you agree?"

...Was that bastard messing with them...or had he actually forgotten?

It didn't matter. Not as long as they got Bones back in time.

"We'll move as fast as we can," Jim confirmed. "Just as long as you keep those bombs from going off."

"I am glad you are being reasonable, Kirk," the terrorist said. "Now, was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

The captain's stomach clenched.

...He'd have to tell him. Sooner or later, he'd have to…

But not yet. Not when so much was still up in the air.

"Nope," Jim shook his head. "Just wanted to give you the landing coordinates, and work out a few logistics in case you win tonight's––"

" _When_ I win," the Augment raised an eyebrow. "Truly, captain, you should be rooting for me: my victory is the only chance you have of stopping those bombs."

...He was _well_ aware.

"Alright then," the captain wasn't sure his lips quite made it to a smile. "Good luck, Khan. Try not to die."

Khan grinned. "See you in a few hours, Kirk."

The transmission cut out.

"...Captain..." Spock said quietly. "You said you were going to tell him about the sterili––"

"I know, Spock," Jim drooped in his chair; pinched the bridge of his nose. "I...I couldn't figure out how. Not without pissing him off so bad that he'd...well...you've seen what he's capable of. You saw him torture B...if we tell Khan what's happened, what do you think he'll do to Leonard?"

"...I see," Spock lowered his eyes; let out something suspiciously close to a sigh. "...Perhaps it is best that you waited. If Khan does not survive tonight's challenge, then there will be nothing we can do to stop the bombs...but we _will_ still be able to save Leonard. But if he wins the fight––"

"Then we're still screwed," the captain grimaced. "There's no easy way out of this, Spock. No way to undo what's been done. The lab–grown organs won't be ready for another week at best…"

"And even if they were ready today, Federation law does not give Doctor M'Benga the right to perform this kind of procedure without the consent of his patients," Spock added. "In order to legally and ethically implant the new uteri, we would have to defy Khan's demands, wake the female Augments, explain what has happened to them, and allow them to individually decide whether or not to undergo the procedure."

...Yep. That...that summed it up. And when Khan finally found out...

"He's gonna kill him," Jim shuddered; tried not to panic. "He's gonna kill Bones, and we won't be able to stop him. Not unless we kill or capture Khan first...and if we do that, then the bombs'll go off...and the Klingons will think we went back on our word. We'd be back at the brink of war, and all because some paranoid asshole just _had_ to keep the Augments from making babies! And what if it _was_ a Starfleet–sanctioned operation? If the Federation is deciding whether or not these people are allowed to reproduce, then what's next? Are we headed back to the days when multispecial relationships are taboo? When xenophobic assholes _sabotage_ the genetic makeup of Human hybrid children so they couldn't live past a couple weeks old? What are––"

"Jim," Spock interrupted abruptly. His head was tilted; his mouth slightly open; his eyes narrowed with concentration. "I...I believe there may be an avenue that we have overlooked."

The captain blinked. "Spock, if you've got a way out of this mess, then for the love of god, don't keep it to yourself."

"It is not a guarantee," Spock cautioned. "And it would not 'undo' what has been done to the Augments...but if I am correct, it may be enough to quell Khan's wrath."


	60. Chapter 60

Protoplaser: check.

Numanol: check.

Bandages and gauze: che––

"Feeling any better?"

Leonard looked up from the third runthrough of his trauma kit's inventory in the past hour; frowned at his captor.

"What?"

"Your stomach," Khan sat next to him on the emergency cot they'd set up in the airlock; gave the doctor an odd look. "After your little...episode...on the bridge, I was concerned our rations were going bad. Do I need to be?"

...Oh.

Of course, the bastard had to bring that up now.

What'd happened on the bridge hadn't been...pleasant...but it had nothing to do with their food supply.

"Nah, I'm fine," Leonard put a hand on his stomach; grimaced. "It was just my aviophobia actin' up. I'm fine now."

"Aviophobia," Khan huffed. "Of _course_ , on top of everything, you would be afraid of flying."

The doctor frowned. "Whaddaya mean 'on top of everything?'"

"Nothing at all," the Augment smirked.

Leonard glared. "Look, I told ya that I didn't wanna be on the bridge when we landed. You're the one that insisted––"

"I admit, that was a mistake...but in my defense, one would normally assume that someone with aviophobia would not enlist in Starfleet."

"Well, normally I can manage it, but the way you flew this bucket of bolts––"

"We do not have inertial dampeners, McCoy. There was only so much I could do to make this ship fly smoothly."

"I get that. My stomach didn't."

Khan rolled his eyes. "Well, you may tell your stomach that I have no intention of flying you anywhere else."

"It'll be glad ta hear it."

The Augment chuckled; Leonard let himself smile a little. He had a feeling Khan was way more nervous about his upcoming fight than he was letting on, and if the man wanted to latch onto weak medical humor to break the tension, then who was he to––

"Doctor," Khan's tone was suddenly serious again. "When the battle begins...there is something I would like you to do."

...Crap.

The doctor gulped. "...And...what would that be?"

"I would like you to monitor my condition as best you can," Khan said. "The distortions of this moon will prevent you from using your tricorder over any kind of distance. I believe you know what that means."

...Right.

"You…" Yeah, he already knew what that meant...but god, he wished he didn't. "You want me ta sit here, and watch the fight, don't you?"

"You may stand instead, if you wish," the Augment let out a weak laugh...then sighed. "I promise: I will not be upset if you have to look away. I know your...compassion...runs deep, even for people you do not know...and this is going to be a rather...gruesome...affair. Is that acceptable?"

Leonard suppressed a shudder; nodded. "I'll...try."

"I know you will," Khan smiled sadly. "Are you finally satisfied with the trauma kit?"

"Hell no," the doctor shrugged. "But barring the anesthesia ya wouldn't let me bring, there's nothin' else I can think of ta add to it."

"Then we are ready," the Augment tilted his head; rose; crossed to the open hatch of the airlock. "And it appears our Klingon hosts have finally reached the system."

Leonard rose as well; crossed to the hatch; scanned the sky for ships.

He was careful not to lean too close to the opening: Khan'd kept the shields up after they landed, and the way it'd scorched all the grass within a foot of the door would've been more than enough of a deterrent...even if the doctor hadn't had such a bad experience with the shield the month before.

"I don't see 'em," Leonard said, squinting up at the sky.

"You wouldn't," the Augment huffed. "They are coming from behind us."

"Then how do ya––"

"I can hear them. Klingon ships let out a low–frequency tone when they travel through an atmosphere. It is quite loud, if you have ears built to detect it."

The doctor blinked. "...Is there anythin' else you Augments can do that I don't know about?"

"Of that, I am certain."

Leonard opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but stopped himself as two small Klingon ships finally came into view. A shuttle from the Enterprise trailed close behind it; all three vessels landed a couple hundred feet away.

The doctor frowned. "Why didn't they land closer?"

"One of my demands," Khan admitted. "The Chancellor, his advisors, and the...delegates...from the Enterprise have sworn to only approach our vessel once the challenge is complete, and I am either dead, or back aboard. It...nullified...a few of my concerns."

...In other words, his captor'd been worried that Jim would try and rescue him while the fight was still going; that he might lose his doctor...and a chunk of his leverage.

Making them swear in front of the Klingons not to approach the ship till the battle was over stopped that from happening.

Leonard kept his opinion about that piece of info to himself; focused on a bright dot of golden–yellow that had just stepped onto the prairie; crossed to converse with someone in the center of the Klingon delegation.

...Jim.

For a moment, the doctor forgot everything the kid had done. His old friend...his captain...was so close. If Leonard waived to him, he might even waive back––

"I shouldn't keep them waiting," Khan turned to him; put a hand on the doctor's shoulder; raised an eyebrow. "What do you say, McCoy: a kiss for good luck?"

Leonard froze.

...Nonono. Hell no.

"Khan...you...you promised you wouldn't––"

"I'm joking," the Augment smirked; patted his cheek. "Honestly, doctor: you _need_ to learn to take a joke."

"I will when you learn not ta be an asshole," Leonard grumbled; tensed even more as his captor's smile vanished.

Khan glared at him for a moment...then chuckled. "It truly is a talent of yours: knowing _exactly_ what to say to bring out my more...violent...instincts. The perfect company before a battle."

The doctor tried to relax. "...If you say so."

The Augment rolled his eyes. "Watch for injuries, doctor...and wish me luck."

The captive looked at the floor. It felt...more than weird...to wish that the man that'd put him through hell made it out of this mess in one piece...but too many lives were at stake for Leonard to hope for anything else.

"...Good luck, Khan."

Khan smiled; tousled Leonard's hair...then picked up his _bat'leth_ ; pulled a PADD from his jacket; lowered the shield just long enough for him to pick up his _bat'leth_ and step outside; switched it back on.

Leonard sighed; glanced at the interior exit to the airlock. Khan'd set up some kind of portable shield emitter to pen him in; keep him from running off into the ship during the fight.

Not that he would've anyway...but his captor didn't like leaving things to chance. Not anymore.

Leonard refocused on Khan; watched the killer cross to the center of the field; raise his _bat'leth_ in salute.

"Chancellor Gorkon," Khan called out. "I am prepared to honor my part of our agreement. I await your first Champion."

The Chancellor gave the Augment a small nod; said something Leonard couldn't understand.

His captor hadn't bothered to leave him a translator, and he was nowhere near close enough to anyone from the Enterprise to pick up their translations...so it looked like the doctor was going to have to spend this entire exchange only understanding _maybe_ half of what was being said.

Great.

Luckily, it seemed the Chancellor wasn't keen on long speeches.

Less than thirty seconds after Khan stepped into the middle of the field, the Chancellor stopped talking, and Klingon who had intercepted the Enterprise...Commander Kol...stepped forward. He carried a ridiculously ornate _bat'leth_ ; wore spike–covered armor from the shoulders down.

He looked...terrifying.

"Commander," Khan saluted his opponent. "You plan to act as the Champion for your House? Are you certain you wish to make that sacrifice?"

Kol scoffed; growled something unintelligible. Even though Leonard wasn't quite sure what the Klingon was saying...he could tell that it definitely wasn't a compliment.

Khan simply shrugged; raised his weapon. "So be it. I hope you die well, Commander."

The combattants circled each other; twirled their _bat'leths_ in front of them; looked for an opening.

Kol lunged first.

Khan dodged...but didn't strike.

"Honestly, you will have to be much faster than that!"

The Klingon growled; attacked again.

Khan stood still this time; blocked each strike Kol attempted; with quick flicks of his wrists.

The Commander was clearly getting frustrated; his attacks became more aggressive; less restrained. His ornate _bat'leth_ blurred through the air; sparked against Khan's simpler version...but could not land so much as a scratch.

"I am growing bored," Khan taunted. "Is this truly the best you can do?"

Kol shouted something in Klingon; swung his blade like a baseball bat at the Augment's head.

Khan ducked.

...And his _bat'leth_ buried itself in Kol's stomach.

The Klingon went down with a roar of pain; Khan yanked his weapon away.

The doctor flinched at the spray of blood; forced a lump of bile back down his throat.

He had to keep it together. He had to be ready to treat Khan the moment this...this battle...ended. And to do that, he needed to know what was happening. To know if that cocky sonofabitch got himself hurt. Too many other lives depended on––

Khan chopped Kol's head off.

Leonard retched.

There wasn't much left in his stomach after their trip down, but there was enough to leave a foul taste in the doctor's mouth when he finally stopped heaving.

God...that was horrible.

He'd...he'd known this was coming. He'd known Khan would have to kill these people to win his challenge...but god, he wished he didn't have to _watch_ it happen. He wished...

Leonard bit back a sob; wiped his mouth on his sleeve; fought to regain some semblance of composure.

...One...one challenger k...defeated. Twenty–three t…

...Dear god...Khan still had to kill twenty–three people before this was over.

...Just focus on him. Just keep track of Khan's injuries. Ignore...everything else.

...Like that was even possible.

"That was too easy!" Khan collected Kol's _bat'leth_ ; brandished a blade in each hand.. "Come now: honor my skill with a greater challenge!"

After a long pause, Chancellor Gorkon said something in Klingon...and three warriors stepped forward.

The Augment let out an incredulous huff; shrugged. "Very well."

It didn't take long for Leonard to realize that even three Klingon warriors attacking at the same time were no match for his captor; the doctor turned away once the first one lost an arm.

...After all, if he could still hear the sounds of the battle, then Khan must still be alive and kicking. So for a moment, the doctor focused on the metallic ring of clashing blades; the throaty snarl of a Klingon striking out; the...

...Then...suddenly...it was too quiet.

Stomach knotted with dread, Leonard looked up at the battlefield.

The three warriors were lying...in pieces...at Khan's feet.

...And the doctor hated himself for feeling a little relieved.

"I said a challenge!" The Augment bellowed. "Not a sacrifice! Chancellor, give me a _real_ battle! Let me _prove_ that my people are worthy of taming this world!"

...Wait.

...Was...was Khan taunting them?!

Was that dumbass _trying_ to get himself killed? Or was his ego just so big that he thought he could actually––

Chancellor Gorkon laughed; shouted something in Klingon.

...And the remaining...twenty...challengers formed a semicircle around Khan. Their _bat'leths_ glinted red in the setting sun.

"No…" Leonard whispered.

That...that was way, _way_ too many for Khan to…

They were calling his bluff.

Gorkon thought the terrorist would back down; that he'd admit he wasn't strong enough to fight that many Klingons at once, and live to tell the tale.

...But the Chancellor didn't know Khan.

Khan tilted his head; let out a laugh; lowered himself into a crouch...and raised his _bat'leths_.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" The killer called out. "After all: today is a good day to die!"

...That crazy, stubborn bastard.

The Klingons charged.

Leonard's breath caught as the alien army converged on his captor.

There was no way out of this. No way Khan could fight off that many Klingons in an open field. This was that Augment's last stand, and he knew...

Khan jumped.

Fifteen feet into the air.

 _Over_ the advancing troops.

The Klingons couldn't stop in time.

 _Bat'leths_ pierced layered armor; bit into Klingon skin.

Screams of surprise and rage richoched across the field.

Khan landed in the grass behind his enemies; rushed back into the frey before the Klingons could regroup.

"...Dear God…"

Khan used one blade as a shield; the other to cut his way through another opponent. And another. And another. They were all screaming and fighting and bleeding and dying and...

...He couldn't do this. He couldn't watch anymore. He couldn't...

The doctor sank to the ground; hugged his knees; stared at a patch of rust on the floor next to the airlock.

They were still screaming. Why did they have to keep screaming?

Leonard's blood started singing in his ears; his heart pumped so fast he could feel it hitting his ribs; his breath morphed into something ragged and loud.

The sounds of the battle faded away.

He started to feel...numb.

...How long had it taken that patch of rust to form?

This ship'd been in space for centuries. A little bubble of atmosphere, recirculating ancient oxygen; condensing water in cold spots...like right next to an airlock.

That the Botany Bay had stayed spaceworthy for so long was a testament to those who built it: the Augments knew it could take a couple lifetimes to find a new home...but he doubted they'd ever imagined anything like this...

 _Doctor_.

Centuries of sleep, on a ship that was slowly rusting out from under them...

" _Doctor."_

And all for freedom. All to live away from people that wanted to use them as pawns in a sadistic powerplay; only to be dragged into the wars of people who weren't even born when––

"McCoy!"

Leonard jumped; blinked away an odd blur to his vision; looked up...and recoiled in horror.

...It was hard to tell how much blood was Khan's, and how much was from the Klingons. At the very least, there was a diagonal gash across the Augment's chest; another along the left side of his face. His nose was broken...and Khan was using a blood–drenched _bat'leth_ as a crutch; his slashed right leg was trembling like it would buckle at any moment.

...What...what had happened? Was the fight over? How could it possibly be over that quickly when––

"Hurry..." Khan started to sway.

Instinctively, Leonard scrambled to his feet; guided his captor down to the emergency cot they'd set up before this...massacre...started; propped him up on some pillows. The bat'leth slipped out of Khan's grasp; clattered to the floor.

The doctor turned to grab the trauma kit, but the killer caught his arm.

"I dropped the control PADD just outside the airlock." With his nose practically flat against his face, Khan's voice sounded strangely nasal. "Retrieve it quickly, come back inside, and raise the shield. The code is 81TS."

The doctor looked back down at his patient; frowned. He had no idea how much blood the man'd already lost, or how deep that leg wound was, or...

"Khan...I know ya might not wanna hear this, but your best shot might be aboard the––"

"Do not argue with me," the terrorist growled. "If I am brought to the Enterprise for treatment, then my people still may be released, but _I_ will never breathe free air again. Raise the shield. Now."

"But Khan, you're really hur––"

"I _will not_ spend the rest of my days in Federation custody!" Khan pulled a knife from his sleeve...and held it to his own throat. "If you do not raise that shield, then I swear, doctor: I will be dead before they reach us. Do you want to seal the fates of thousands of civilians? _Do you?_ "

"Of course not! I––"

"81TS! Go!"

The Augment released Leonard's arm; the doctor rushed to outer door of the airlock; saw the PADD lying a couple feet away.

"Bones!"

Leonard froze.

...The remaining Klingons, and the Enterprise's landing party, had carefully started across the...body–covered...battlefield.

Jim was already halfway to him.

...They were coming. They were coming to take him home.

The doctor took a step towards his old friend; the charred grass of an alien moon crunched under his bare feet.

"Hurry, McCoy!" Khan groaned behind him. "The longer you take, the closer we come to disaster!"

Leonard stopped in his tracks, his eyes went wide.

"Bones, it's alright," Jim urgently gestured for him to keep walking. "We've got a team standing by to patch him up. You can––"

"MCCOY!"

...No.

Khan...Khan wasn't gonna let anybody else near him. Not even another doctor. If Leonard ran, Khan would...

He couldn't let that happen! He _wouldn't_ let that happen!

Leonard snatched up the PADD; rushed back inside the airlock; tapped in the code.

The shield went back up in a flash of sparks.

"NO!"

The doctor heard feet crashing through tall grass; started to turn back to the door.

"Ignore them," Khan ordered weakly; dropped his knife. "Just focus on me."

Leonard nodded; set the PADD by his trauma kit. He yanked on a pair of gloves; retrieved a medical tricorder, a protoplaser, bandages, some self–sealing trauma gauze, and a hypo of Numanol; got to work.

Khan's chest was...gristly...but treatable. On a normal person, it would leave a nasty scar no matter how carefully he sealed it up, but with his patient's abilities––

"Why'd you do it?" Jim sounded angry. "Why'd you raise th––"

"Not now!" the doctor snapped. "I need ta concentrate!"

The captain went silent.

...Good.

What Jim...what his captain...what _Kirk_ had tried to get him to do would've gotten thousands of people killed. It was irresponsible, and dangerous, and...and…

Focus.

Like he'd just said, he needed to focus.

"Try ta keep your head tilted forward," the doctor ordered his patient; handed him a couple rolled up strips of gauze. "And put these up your nose...if it doesn't hurt too much."

The Augment glared, but complied.

While his patient was distracted stopping one source of bleeding, Leonard unrolled a longer strip of gauze; sealed it over the chest wound as best he could; did the same with the leg. The painkiller and coagulant infused into the material would help keep Khan out of shock; buy them both a little time.

...But not much.

"You've already lost a ton of blood," the doctor yanked up the retractable post protruding from the head of the cot; grabbed a bag of saline from the trauma kit; hung it on the post. "Hopefully this'll help kickstart that healing crap of yours."

The Augment nodded; extended his left arm. Leonard guided the IV into a vein; started scanning Khan's right leg.

...The lacerations went deep into both the rectus femoris and the vastus lateralis. How the hell the man'd managed to walk with a leg like this, let alone _fight_ with it, was almost beyond the doctor's comprehen––

"God...he looks bad," Kirk breathed. "Bones, we have Doctor M'Benga, Doctor Chapel, and Nurses Barclay and Youssef on standby. If you need help––"

"He will not lower the shield, Kirk," Khan growled through gritted teeth. "He knows what will happen if he does. Do be quiet, and let the man work!"

The captain went silent again; Leonard continued his scans.

He'd been afraid of another gut wound like the one Khan'd brought back from that outpost a while back...or that the man might've gotten himself stabbed in the back at some point, and hadn't noticed with all that adrenaline running through his system...or about a thousand other complications that could've made this mess impossible to fix on his own.

...But luckily, Leonard didn't find anything besides what was already glaringly obvious.

Compared to injuries the doctor had seen Khan heal on his own, the cut on his cheek was a papercut. One that was bleeding like hell...but still...a papercut.

The Augment's broken nose was a little more worrisome. Sure, normally crushed cartiledge was something any first–year med student could sort out...but there was a good chance the Augment's super–healing blood would bite him in the ass if Leonard didn't realign the nose immediately. If left for too long, that deformity could lead to a septal hematoma, or permanent disfigurement, or...

He'd re–break the damn thing later if he had to.

Stopping the rest of the bleeding was more important than making Khan look pretty.

"I'm gonna patch the leg first," The doctor held up the Numanol for Khan to see. "I don't know if I can get this deep enough...but I'll do my best."

"I understand," the blood–coated Augment sucked in a shaky breath through his mouth; grimaced. "Get on with it."

Leonard pressed a healthy dose of Numanol into each side of Khan's leg; quickly removed the gauze; put a third directly into the wound.

His patient hissed; glared...but was far too stubborn to pull away.

...That could've gone worse. The medicine in the gauze, combined with Khan's healing ability, had staunched a little of the bleeding already...but the doctor still had his work cut out for him.

"Here comes the protoplaser," Leonard warned. "Do ya need somethin' ta bite down on, or––"

"Just do it!"

The doctor cringed...but obeyed.

As the protoplaser started knitting muscles and veins back together, Khan groaned; gripped the sides of the cot so hard he bent the metal frame.

Leonard gritted his teeth; kept going.

Even with the Augment's healing crap speeding things along, it felt like an eternity before the protoplaser made it through the last layer of muscle; sealed Khan's leg with a line of fragile, pink skin.

"Leg's as good as it's gonna get right now," the doctor muttered to himself. "Time for the chest…"

Leonard looked up...and froze.

Khan's head was lolled forward. His eyes were closed; there was a little drool threatening to drip from his open mouth.

"...Khan?" The doctor rose quickly; rapidly patted the Augment's cheek.

...No response.

"Shit!" Leonard scrambled for his tricorder; scanned his patient.

"What happened?" Kirk asked worriedly from behind the forcefield. "Bones, please: if you need help, just––"

"Not now!"

What if he'd missed something? What if Khan was bleeding somewhere he hadn't noticed? What if the broken nose was suffocating…

No.

The doctor reread the scans; let out a sigh of relief.

...He was just unconscious.

His nervous system was probably just overwhelmed. Understandable, given...everything.

...But Khan had ordered Leonard not to let him lose consciousness...and with his nose screwed up, the asshole really did need to be awake...or he could drown in his own blood.

Not gonna risk it.

The doctor's gloved hands left red smears on the trauma kit as he fished around for the hypo of inaprovaline; set the dose; jammed it into the Augment's neck.

Khan's head snapped up; his eyes flew open; he grabbed Leonard's wrist in a bone–grinding grip.

The doctor heard Kirk gasp...but thankfully, the captain kept his mouth shut.

His patient was clearly disoriented, and his broken nose was starting to swell, along with the skin around his eyes.

Not the best time for comments from the peanut gallery.

"It's okay," Leonard soothed; held up his free hand to show it was empty. "You're okay. It's me. Just me. Ya passed out for a minute, but I didn't let anybody else in. You're still free."

As he spoke, the killer's puffy eyes refocused; Khan released his arm.

"...What is left?"

"Biggest thing's that slash across your chest," the doctor set down the inaprovaline; picked up the hypo of Numanol. "But 's'not nearly as deep as the leg was...so I think the pain meds will work way better this time."

"Good man," the Augment gave a feeble nod. "Proceed."

Leonard pressed the hypo in at a few different points across the wound; picked up the protoplaser again.

He worked in silence, thankful that the medicine had done its job this time. Khan didn't so much as flinch the entire time his chest was being patched up; it actually got to the point that the doctor was worriedly glancing at him every few seconds to make sure he hadn't passed out again.

Luckily, they got through the entire cut without that happening.

"That's that," Leonard sighed; peeled off his blood–spattered gloves; fished around in the trauma kit for a new pair. The old ones were getting...sticky. "The cut on your cheek's stopped bleedin' on its own. I might hit it with a dermal regenerator if it looks like it's gonna scar, but I think it's time ta move onto that nose of yours––"

"Later, doctor," Khan interrupted. "If my life is no longer in danger, then I need to converse with your old captain, and Chancellor Gorkon."

Leonard blinked; turned to look at the airlock's outer door.

...The Klingon Chancellor was standing next to Kirk.

...He hadn't realized anybody but Kirk'd been watching him work; hadn't realized that he'd snapped at his old friend––a person who was technically still his superior officer––in front of a man who could either become one of the Federation's worst enemies...or greatest allies.

...Well...that was just...great.

...But the doctor's job wasn't done.

"Can't the talks wait? Your nose may not be life–threatening, but if it heals like that before I can––"

"The Klingon delegation will begin to mourn their dead soon," Khan growled. "That involves a series of gut–wrenching howls...which could easily startle you, causing your hand to slip while you are working on my face. As I do not want to end up looking like a star–nosed mole, we are going to finish these negotiations right now, and then close that hatch to block out the sound of their ceremonies."

"But Khan––"

"This is not up to you, doctor."

The Augment shifted; dropped his barely–mended leg over the side of the cot.

Leonard grabbed his arm. "I really wouldn't recommend standing on that leg––"

Khan ignored him; started pushing himself to his feet...and immediately cried out in pain.

Leonard hurried to catch the stubborn dumbass before he could fall; helped him back down to the cot; rescanned the leg.

"No new damage," the doctor reported. "Just pissed off nerves. Like I've told ya before: this tech's not magic."

"It appears I will have to finish negotiations from here," Khan begrudgingly admitted; looked out at Chancellor Gorkon. "Chancellor: the battle is over, and I have won. Will you honor our agreement?"

"Of course," Gorkon nodded stiffly. The man seemed stunned...and almost...afraid. "Klingons keep their word...I trust you will do so as well."

"I do," the terrorist said. "Once I am able to reach the bridge, I will send out a code to prevent my bombs from detonating, as per my agreement with Captain Kirk. The rest will come after the Federation has upheld their end of the bargain. I expect the first members of my crew to be returned in six hours."

"Make that twelve," Leonard pleaded. "For the sake of your health, and my sanity."

Khan chuckled; winced. "Alright: _twelve_ hours. Is that an acceptable timeframe for all parties?"

"It is acceptable to the Klingon Empire," the Chancellor agreed; turned to Kirk. "Captain?"

A...weird...almost...terrified...look flashed across his old friend's face; disappeared behind a mask of professionalism.

"Of course," the captain nodded. "Twelve hours works for us. We'll...start preparing your people for transport."

"Alright then," Khan smiled; grimaced as the act pulled the muscles around his nose. "...This is the beginning of a new era, Kirk: when the sun rises on this moon tomorrow, a glorious society will be reborn!"

Kirk didn't look too excited about this news; neither did Chancellor Gorkon.

As the doctor knelt; searched the blood–spattered trauma kit for the tool that would let him drag Khan's nose back into place, his mind flashed back to the battle...to the massacre...they'd just witnessed...

...And despite what he now knew about Khan's people...Leonard couldn't blame them for being afraid.


	61. Chapter 61

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?!"

Jim grimaced; searched the viewscreen for the tiny man in the tiny square that was yelling at him this time.

There'd been a lot of them in the past fifteen minutes...but Admiral Garth was definitely the most vocal...although Admiral Enwright was giving him a pretty good run for his money.

It was still a bit hard to focus on the right admiral, though: with twenty admirals on the viewscreen at the same time, Jim had to squint a little to stay focused on who was talking to him. Their comments were a mix of shock, fear, and...well...some were just pissed.

"Answer me, Kirk!"

And Admiral Garth was...really not taking it well.

It wasn't an unexpected reaction. Not to this kind of news.

But it wasn't like there was much they could do.

"Unfortunately, Admiral," Jim finally found him on the viewscreen; gave him a shrug. "Our best option is to go along with Khan's proposal. We had to give our word to the Klingons that we would respect the outcome of the fight, or risk in interstellar incident...possibly even a full-blown war. Khan has promised to give up his bomb locations and deactivation codes once all his people have been safely returned to him."

"Given his track record, that's pretty astounding," Admiral Comsol quipped from midscreen. "But he's not giving us much of a choice. Does he want anything else?"

"Yes, Sir," Jim confirmed. "Khan's also demanding that the Federation supply his new colony with everything is needs to get off the ground: food, clothing, crop seeds, waste reclamation units...and a lot more. Once the Augments are settled into their new home, Khan's agreed to let us come back every four months to deliver any supplies they cannot produce themselves. He sent us a tentative list of initial supplies an hour ago."

...Including a substantial number of cloth diapers…

While sending over that list Khan had also made a few...unpleasant accusations...about the Federation leaving them there to die if the supply schedule wasn't part of the final deal. Accusations the captain would have brushed off as the paranoia of a psychopathic terrorist...if he didn't know about the Ceti Alpha V debacle...and what had happened to some of Khan's crew already...

He hoped they could fix this. He really, really did.

"Well, he could be demanding a lot worse," Admiral Comsol remarked with a sigh. "And the Klingons have agreed to this arrangement?"

"They have," Jim confirmed. "Chancellor Gorkon has been more than gracious about the situation. The Klingons also really don't want to divert resources from their war with the Romulans to fight us. They've even agreed to let us set up a subspace satellite above Khan's moon, as long as they can set one up as well. That way, both sides will be able to keep tabs on any vessels that approach the moon...as well as any that try to launch from the surface. Chancellor Gorkon is about as keen to let the Augments leave that moon as we are."

Especially after seeing how easily a single Augment could cut apart an army.

Jim had gone to sleep with the sight of Klingon bodies seared into his eyelids; he could only imagine what was going through Gorkon's head...

"So Khan gets to live out his life in some cozy little exile?" Admiral Enwright made a disgusted noise. "If he really can't beam away from that moon, then can't you just send in a team to arrest him after his bombs are deactivated? The Federation Council is gnashing at the bit to put that psychopath on trial."

...Weren't they all?

"With all due respect, Admiral, attempting to capture Khan now would be a diplomatic disaster." No matter how much Jim wished they could. "Khan challenged the Klingons to combat for the right to colonize the moon. And he won. In less than an hour, he killed _twenty four Klingon warriors_ with nothing but a couple _bat'leths_. The Klingon Chancellor is a bit...well...freaked doesn't quite cover it...but he plans to honor the terms of the challenge. In the eyes of the Klingons, the Quel-Nok system's only habitable moon now belongs solely to the Augments. If the Federation refuses to honor their sovereignty, and tries to come after Khan-"

"Then we'll be at war with the Klingons," Admiral Comsol finished grimly. "Khan's worked this out perfectly for himself, hasn't he? We can't arrest him, and we can't hold onto his people without his bombs going off."

"Do we at least have assurances that Khan won't set off any more bombs?" Admiral Nogura asked from the upper left corner of the viewscreen.

"We do," Jim confirmed. "Khan told us half an hour ago that he sent out a code to delay the detonations. For how long is anybody's guess...but the man really wants his people back. If we can keep our part of the bargain, I don't think Khan will blow anything else up."

Admiral Cornwell spoke up from the mid-left panel. "What do you mean, 'if' we can, Captain? We can safely send you all of Khan's crew to your location in a matter of weeks, along with the requested supplies. Is there something on that list that we can't give him?"

...And now for the part he'd been dreading.

This...this was never going to be easy.

But they needed to know the entire situation. And with all of them learning about it at once, there was a much higher chance of the atrocity actually being investigated properly...and a much lower chance that whoever was responsible would try to "silence" anybody who knew about it.

It was a risk...but one he didn't have a choice _but_ to take.

"...Admiral...it's not...There is a...complication...with the Augments aboard the Enterprise," Jim confessed. "One that I fear exists with many of the other Augments as well."

Cornwell blinked; tilted her head. "...What kind of complication could you possibly have, Captain? They are all still in cryostasis, correct?"

"...They are, Admiral."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"There were multiple malfunctions in the cryotubes' hardware and power cells," Jim grimaced at the memory. "My Chief Engineer was repairing those malfunctions to ensure the Augments didn't die when Khan tried to revive them. When he ran a final software check, he noticed an extra algorithm in the software for the cryotubes containing women. He consulted with my Acting-CMO, Doctor M'Benga, as well as Doctor Christine Chapel, one of the few people with...experience...caring for Augments. They concluded the algorithm was hiding something from the cryotube's bioscans, and revived one of them in order to test that hypothesis."

"...And what did they find?" Admiral Comsol interjected, clearly already knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

The captain drew a deep breath; let it out. "...All of the women in Khan's crew have had their uteruses removed by modern surgical instruments. They've been sterilized."

Someone on the bridge gasped; Chekov and Sulu spun in their chairs, eyes wide; mouths hanging open.

The Admirals stared at him too, horror evident on their faces.

...Most of their faces, anyway. Admirals Enwright and Garth looked more...panicked...than anything else.

...Or was that just Jim's imagination? He didn't like them, after all. He could've just been projecting...

In either case, it felt like an eternity before anyone spoke.

"How...How could this happen?" Admiral Nogura finally demanded. "The Federation has strict laws against this kind of barbarism!"

"Laws that were clearly ignored," Admiral Comsol grimly remarked. "Captain...these revelations could destabilize our efforts for peace not only with Khan and his people, but the Klingons as well. Why did you not alert us to this problem as soon as you became aware of it?"

"I was trying to gather as much evidence as I could," Jim confessed. "But there's not much to go on yet. From what we can tell, the surgeries were performed sometime after we recaptured the Augments who held Lieutenant Kim hostage...but the memory banks of every cryotube we've accessed since prepping Khan's crew for delivery don't register the things as ever having been opened. Even _after_ we opened them to-"

"And you really thought opening them was a good idea?" Admiral Enwright prodded. "You could've unleashed an army-"

"The Augments were sedated throughout their tests, and frozen again as soon as they were complete," Jim tried hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "They were never a danger to my ship or my crew."

"That was not for you to decide!" Enwright snapped. "Those people are too dangerous to risk-"

"Calm down, Alex," Admiral Mendez interjected. "Continue your report, Captain: have you found _any_ evidence as to who might have done this?"

The captain grimaced. "...Not exactly."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

...What a way to end a career.

Jim squared his shoulders. "The Augments came from multiple outposts; most of which were days apart, and were delivered by two separate starships...but all of the women were sterilized sometime before they came aboard the Enterprise. Given the short timeframe between Khan's attack in Paris, and our collecting the first of the Augments at Starbase Eleven, there are only a few possible scenarios. First, that whatever is left of Section-31 somehow has operatives at every facility where the Augments were being held, and they were ordered by someone with knowledge of Khan's escape to 'protect' the Federation. Second, the doctors at those facilities were ordered to perform the procedures by someone with a hell of a lot of power, and decided that breaching their ethical code was worth it to not piss that person off. Or...Third...someone with access to transwarp beaming tech used it to covertly send a team of doctors to all the facilities to perform the surgeries. Admirals...all of those scenarios have a common thread."

"Someone with access to highly classified information and technologies...and the clout to keep their accomplices quiet," Admiral Nogura summarized. "...You think one of us gave the order, don't you?"

The captain nodded stiffly. "It was either an admiral...or someone on the Federation Council. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"How dare you!" Admiral Enwright seethed. "How do we know you aren't just making up this story to cover up your own-"

"We can point fingers until they fall off," Admiral Comsol cut him off with a glare; pinched the bride of his nose. "But _how_ this happened is not the immediate problem, is it Kirk?"

...That could've gone worse...

"...No, sir," Jim shook his head. "Khan is expecting the first members of his crew to be returned in a few hours. We have to hand them over, or both Khan and the Klingons will think we're going back on our word. Once he has them, it will only be a matter of time before Doctor McCoy discovers the operations, and-"

"Do you really think this doctor would tell Khan what's happened?" Admiral Garth scoffed. "Does the man have a death wish?"

Jim cringed. "It's...complicated. Doctor McCoy has been Khan's prisoner for two months. From the way B...McCoy was acting after the fight with the Klingons, my ship's counselor is certain Stockholm syndrome has set in. And even if it hasn't, our evidence suggests that Khan has made McCoy terrified of lying to him. There's a good chance-"

"Oh, fantastic!" Garth threw up his hands. "So the one person who could fake the readings is a coward!"

Jim bristled. "Doctor McCoy is not a coward. He's just...look, the guy's spent _two months_ being tortured and beaten and demeaned and...and those are just the things that we have video evidence of. Khan has confessed to worse."

"So, what?" Garth pressed. "You're worried he'll tell the guy out of spite? Come on! If this doctor didn't have the guts to resist turning into Khan's lapdog, then why-"

" _Seriously_ , Garth?" Admiral Cornwell sounded disgusted...and pissed. "Did you sleep through Psych 101? Were you playing video games on your PADD during your hostage negotiation training?"

"Of course not! I have been an admiral for-"

"Then act like it," Cornwell glared. "Otherwise, I might have to pop by your office and quiz you about the proper protocols for helping officers through trauma and PTSD. How does next Tuesday sound?"

"Oh, come on, Kat, I'm busy-"

"Then stop being an ass."

"I have to agree with Admiral Cornwell," Admiral Comsol remarked. "Doctor McCoy is a kidnapping victim. We cannot expect him to be in a position to lie to his captor...Which only leaves us one real option. Kirk, how long can you stall on returning-"

The viewscreen went black.

The captain froze.

...What...what had happened?

The screen flicked to a view of the moon below.

"...Uhura...did the signal cut-"

"It did," the communications officer replied tensely. "The subspace beacon just went offline. I...I don't think I can get them back."

Jim's eyes went wide; dread seeped into his skin.

...Khan couldn't have been listening in...The channel they were on was triple-encrypted! He couldn't have heard-

"Captain..." Uhura's voice had an unmistakable edge of fear. "Khan is hailing us."

...Shit.


	62. Chapter 62

There was a time for diplomacy. A time when two warring factions could sit down at a table in neutral territory, and discuss their grievances in a calm, civilized manner.

This was not that time.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"

Khan watched Kirk cringe; visibly gulp on the viewscreen at his bellowed question. He felt a great deal of satisfaction over the man's discomfort; resolved to see to it that that treacherous bastard _squirmed_ for him before this was over. He deserved it.

"Khan..." Kirk was clearly trying to keep his voice level. "I presume this means you heard my conversation with-"

"Of course I heard you!" The Augment fumed. "I control the Xedna Eight beacon, and I trust the Federation about as much as a rabbit trusts a hawk! Did you truly believe you could get away with this, Kirk? Did you think I was that much of a fool-"

"We weren't trying to 'get away' with anything," Kirk claimed. "I was going to tell you-"

"Of _course_ you were! Right after you carved out the rest of my people's organs!"

"It _wasn't us_ ," Kirk argued. "I swear on my life: no one on the Enterprise performed those surgeries. Look, I can send you our logs; the medical files; every scrap of information we've gathered-"

"Do you think I would ever trust a word of those files?" Khan scowled. "You told those slack-jawed admirals that the cryotubes were not recording reanimation sequences! Why would any information you send me be any more accurate than that? Keep your fabricated reports to yourself, and just admit that you were too much of a _coward_ to tell me what happened to my-"

" _I was going to tell you_ ," Kirk insisted. "But damn it, Khan, this is a complicated situation! I just wanted to brief Starfleet first; to know for certain what our options were before we made any rash-"

"Your options?!" The terrorist laughed. "Oh yes: the options to lie about what has been done, or to tell me after the bombs were deactivated, and I was no longer a threat to you! What a fool I was, Captain, to think you had some _integrity_ , you spineless, _cowardly_ -"

"Name calling won't help this situation," Kirk interrupted. "And those weren't the options I was talking about. You deactivated the subspace beacon before I could request-"

"I've had just about enough of your lies," Khan snapped. "Let me be clear, Kirk: what little trust I had in you is gone. You let this happen; what I am forced to do next is not my fault."

"If you detonate your bombs, then the Federation will never release your people," that stupid Vulcan standing behind Kirk reminded him. "There are a number of alternative solutions available to us that can prevent further bloodshed, if you are willing to listen-"

"What makes you think I want to _prevent_ bloodshed?" That was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Please Khan, for everyone's sake, take a breath." The captain followed his own advice. "I know you're pissed, and you have every right to be. But this isn't over. We have a plan to-"

"To _hell_ with your _plans_ ," Khan growled. "I want vengeance. My people were in the Federation's custody, and they were _maimed_. You cannot comprehend what I am feeling...at least not yet."

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "...Khan...whatever you're planning, think it through. Killing more people won't undo what's been done-"

"Oh, I don't intend to kill _people_ ," Khan gritted his teeth; sneered. "Just _one_. And this...this is going to hurt."

...Kirk. It would...It would hurt Kirk. The bastard who had kept this information from him. He deserved this pain...and far more.

Kirk's eyes went wide with fear and understanding. "...No. Khan, you don't have to do this. We can work this out if you let-"

"Six days."

The captain blinked.

"...What?"

...Inflict as much pain as possible. Fuel his imagination; fuel his agony.

"Six. Days." Khan repeated with a hiss. "You wanted to know what happened after McCoy sent out that pitiful distress call, correct? Well, I caught him, beat him within an inch of his life, then tied him to his biobed. Your weak little friend spent the next six days screaming, begging, and bawling like an infant. I doubt I need to say _why_."

Kirk's skin paled. "You...how could you––"

"He is already so _weak_ , Kirk," Khan made himself grin; made himself continue the lie. "He probably won't last that long this time. Have you ever heard a grown man cry himself to sleep? Have you seen one pass out from exhaustion on a bed soaked with his own sweat and tears? Even now, even after we came to a new, more...humane...arrangement, all McCoy's punishments––all his pain and terror and anger and shame––they all repeat themselves the moment he falls asleep, and his nightmares begin. Can you picture it, Kirk? How he whimpers, and sobs, and––"

"Stop! Please, just leave Bones out of this! He didn't do anythi––"

"NEITHER DID THEY!"

The captain clamped his mouth shut; he bit his lip; turned away. His body shook with every breath.

...Was Kirk crying?

...Good.

Even that Vulcan looked distressed...possibly even fighting back tears as well. Spock took a step toward his captain; rested a hand on Kirk's shoulder.

Comforting him. Like Kirk was a child, so weak he needed someone to tell him everything was going to be okay. That good men existed. That heroes _always_ saved their friends in the end...

Disgusting.

"You caused this, Captain," Khan refused to relent. "You failed to protect the only people I have ever loved. And so now you must stand there, _useless_ to do anything to stop me from killing someone you love. I would call it an eye for an eye, but I think we both know I am being far more _merciful_ than that."

His adversary straightened; took in a few deep breaths; then turned back with damp eyes.

"...You're right about one thing, Khan," Kirk's voice was unsteady, but determined. "There are no excuses for what's happened to your people. They didn't do anything to us...But I promise you: we are _not_ going to let their attackers get away with it. The people who hurt your crew _will_ be rooted out and brought to justice...But if you can't wait that long, then I'm begging you: don't take it out on Bones. If someone has to die for this today, then you can have me. Just––"

"I don't want you," Khan cut him off with a clipped voice. How did that buffoon not understand? "I _want_ the _monsters_ that destroyed my people's future. I want to rip their throats out, and watch the light leave their terrified eyes. But I cannot do that. I do not know who they are, and even if I did, I have no way off this rock. So I can either kill your pitiful little friend, and make you feel a _fraction_ of my agony, or I can detonate my bombs. And I choose the option that keeps your leaders bound to our agreement with the Klingons. Try to stop me, and there is no telling what I will do."

"Khan, please! We're _going_ to fix this! Just listen––"

"THIS IS NOT SOMETHING THAT CAN BE FIXED!"

Khan slammed his hand onto the control pad. The transmission cut out; the terrorist found himself staring at his infuriated reflection on the empty viewscreen.

...No. Not his reflection: _Harrison's_ reflection! The Federation's _puppet_ , too confused to realize his strings were being pulled; a _weapon_ with a blank mind and a doctored voice!

The Augment turned away from the screen before he could smash it.

Why had he expected anything but barbarism from the people who had mutilated him? Why had he not seen the attack on his people's future coming from light years away? The Federation was as full of corrupt, power-hungry individuals as every other society ever imagined! Of course someone had been willing to pick up where Marcus had left off!

But they would not get away with it. They...they would pay.

Khan took a hurried step for the door; winced as his right leg protested the movement. The Augment reached behind him for the cain...his doctor...had insisted they pull from storage.

...He didn't truly need it. McCoy had told him that, with his rate of healing, the muscle spasms would likely be gone within another six hours. The cain was just the doctor being overcautious; worried that the Augment would overexert himself; that he would find a way to tear his freshly-healed muscles, and...

It was more trouble than it was worth.

The killer tossed the cain on the floor; headed for the medbay at a slow, steady pace.

As he walked through the silent, empty halls of his people's former refuge, Khan's options began to feel like both a luxury and a curse.

There were so many ways he could kill McCoy. So many horrific, stomach-churning methods of execution that could be deployed against his gentle, compassionate doctor.

He could record it; send the video to Kirk as proof that he had followed through on his threats. He could broadcast the execution through his subspace beacon; force the entire Federation to witness this reckoning!

...But McCoy didn't deserve that. This was not about making him suffer.

...Kirk didn't need to know exactly _how_ McCoy died. He just needed to see the...the body. The mangled corpse of his best friend. Even if most of the damage didn't happen when McCoy was still alive, the final emotional impact would still be the same.

It would break him.

James T. Kirk, a hero of the Federation, would end the day a broken man.

And that would have to be enough.

The killer reached the medbay; opened the door.

At first glance, Khan thought McCoy was asleep. He was wrapped in a blanket on his biobed; his supine form completely relaxed. His breathing was deep; his eyes were closed; he was smiling. But the man's fingers were tapping out a lazy rhythm, and it only took a second more for Khan to notice the headphones in his captive's ears.

Perfectly content. A stolen moment of peace in a chaotic time. Completely unaware of the danger...

...He could do it now.

With music in his ears, McCoy wouldn't hear him cross to the shelves; wouldn't hear him return with a hypo full of anesthetic.

The man would be unconscious before he realized what had happened.

He would be...dead...before his song finished playing.

And Khan could bring McCoy's severed head to that treacherous captain without having to...without having...

To hear the screams.

The crying.

The pleas for mercy.

As he butchered a man whom he had promised would see his daughter again.

...His daughter...

The Augment gritted his teeth through a fresh wave of grief and rage.

 _He_ would never have a daughter.

 _He would never have a child!_ And McCoy's people were to blame for it! They had let this happen! They had taken away the future of his people!

...Had...Had the doctor _known_?

McCoy had scanned Nitika's body. Certainly, if the man could tell that the woman had a fractured _brain_ , he would have been able to recognize a _missing organ_.

Had McCoy been holding in _laughter_ as they discussed the logistics of supplying the colony? Was his advice about the diapers, and the baby clothes, and upbringing just a series of _jokes_ to him?

Or had the man quaked through those conversations, knowing full well what would happen when Khan discovered the truth? Was that why he had been so averse to bringing his own child to the colony? Was that why...

Or, perhaps, the procedures had been performed _after_ Nitika's death.

Perhaps McCoy had no idea what his people had done.

A monster, a coward, or a, innocent man: which was it?

What kind of death did McCoy deserve?

...He needed to know _._

Khan crossed to the biobed; yanked the headphones out of his captive's ears.

"Holy hell!" McCoy jumped; his eyes flew open; focused on his captor. "Jesus, Khan, ya could've just tapped my shoulder, or made some noise ta get my attention. You coulda given me a heart attack!"

...When this was over, the man might wish he had.

The captive sat up; pushed his blanked aside; looked around with a frown. "And where's your cane? Ya really shouldn't be walkin' yet without––"

Khan grabbed the front of McCoy's shirt; dragged him off the biobed; to his feet. The music player clattered to the floor.

The doctor tripped over his chain; steadied himself; swallowed. "Khan...What's wrong? Do the Klingons want ya ta pay taxes or some––"

The killer's right hand slid to his captive's throat; McCoy went still.

"It has been awhile since we played this game, doctor," Khan sneered. "But I am certain you remember the rules. Just tell the truth, and tell it _promptly_ , and you keep breathing. Understand?"

The doctor's eyes went wide. "W–What's going on? Khan, you promised––"

" _Many_ promises have been broken in the past hour," the Augment hissed. "The ones I made to you, _doctor_ , are only _minor_ casualties of this catastrophe."

"What catastrophe? What are you…" McCoy trailed off; his jaw dropped. "Oh...oh dear God! the Federation's not goin' for the deal, are they? They're really gonna let those bombs––they're gonna risk _war_ with the _Klingons_ ––just ta...Those stubborn, pea–brained bastards! Khan, I'm so sorry! I can't imagine how you're feel––"

Khan tightened his grip. Not quite enough to actually block the man's airway, but enough to terrify him into silence.

"Oh, the Federation fully intends to release my people," Khan seethed. "They are not _quite_ that foolish...but I believe you may know the catch."

McCoy stared. "Are...are you sure 'bout that? 'Cause, the only other thing that's comin' to mind is them wanting you ta surrender, but that doesn't make any––"

The killer squeezed.

The doctor panicked; scratched at the hand constricting his breath.

Khan slapped him.

The man's wide eyes filled with tears; his head drooped. A moment more, and McCoy's hands slipped to their sides; he started to sway.

...Restraint.

If he lost control, he would never know the truth.

The Augment let his captive collapse to the floor.

The doctor gasped for air.

"My patience is in short supply, doctor," Khan threatened. "Do not test me."

"Khan...please..." McCoy wheezed. "I–I don't know what ya want me ta say!"

...Was that the truth?

The Augment crouched; grabbed a fistful of his captive's hair; forced his gaze.

"Then tell me this, doctor: when you were examining Nitika, did you find anything unusual?"

McCoy gaped. "Half...half her _organs_ were in _pieces_! What's more unusual than that?!"

...No signs of deception. Just confusion, terror, and indignation.

But not a full answer.

Was that deliberate, or an artifact of ignorance?

"Anything _besides_ the organ damage," Khan clarified. "Any surgical scars?"

"N...No," the doctor tried to shake his head. "Not that I remember...wait, did Section 31 screw with how she looked too? Are ya tellin' me that half your people had their faces swapped or some––"

"That is _not_ what I am telling you," the Augment gritted out. "But are you _swearing_ to me that there were no signs of surgery?"

"As far as I could tell," McCoy swallowed; winced. "Maybe...maybe I missed it? The organ damage was pretty extensive, and I didn't have that long ta run my scans...but Khan, if you think somebody put tracking devices or somethin' in your people, then I'll go get a medical tricorder an' perform a full autopsy right now. Her body's still in the cryotube, right?"

...Tracking devices.

Yet another _"guess"_ in the completely wrong direction. Was the man being _deliberately_ obtuse? Had he rehearsed what to say in the event Khan ever discovered...

...Fairness.

...McCoy's explanation was...more than feasible. Khan _had_ only given him a few moments with Nitika before...attacking...and taking Nitika's body to the cryotube. It was entirely possible that the doctor had not noticed a missing non–vital organ in the midst of that...chaos.

And, of course, it was also entirely possible that there had been nothing to notice.

He should have checked Nitika's body _first_. He should have just…

Khan had allowed his to rage take control; allowed it to override rational thought.

The last two months had showed Khan that McCoy couldn't keep a secret from him. Not for this long. Not this convincingly. If nothing else, the man's compassion would've bled through; manifested as guilt. He would have seen in McCoy's eyes; heard it in his voice whenever the subject of children came up. He would have...

The Augment released his captive's hair; sat back on his heels. His fury ebbed away, and...sorrow...took its place.

Wanting McCoy to be complicit did not make him so. Even if it would have made what Khan...had...to do...far easier.

"I should've just used the hypo," Khan muttered.

McCoy's breath hitched; terrified brown eyes searched his captor's face.

"You're...you're gonna kill me."

There was no question in the doctor's voice. He was too smart for that.

Khan...turned away. "I don't have a choice."

"The _hell_ ya don't!" McCoy rasped. "I–I've been good! I patched ya up after that fight without a fuss! I de–scrambled your nose so fast you barely flinched! And even when I had a chance, I didn't run away––I even put the shield––"

"I know, doctor," the killer drew a deep breath; let it out. "That...that is not the point."

"Then what in God's name _is_ the point?" McCoy demanded. "What happened, Khan? Why do you wanna kill me?"

... _Want_ had nothing to do with this.

"Trust me, doctor." Khan rose quickly; heard his captive scramble back. "You do not want to know."

" _Trust you?!_ You're _literally_ about ta kill me! Trust ain't an option! Tell me why––"

"Knowing the truth will only make you feel worse." The killer crossed to the bookshelves; retrieved a hypo of anesthetic. "You deserve better than this...but people do not always get what they deserve."

His people certainly had not.

Khan maxed out the hypo's dosage; turned back to his captive. McCoy was standing by the head of his biobed, muscles tensed; ready to either charge or retreat in an instant.

...Neither choice would make a difference in the end.

"This doesn't have to hurt," the killer said gently. "Please, doctor: lie down on the biobed. Put your headphones on; listen to your favorite song. Think of your daught...of your family. Your friends. Your home. Anything but––"

McCoy bolted for the bathroom.

The Augment didn't move to stop him; just watched grimly as the doctor jabbed at the interior control panel. McCoy had tried to barricade himself like this one other time, at the beginning of his imprisonment. The subsequent beating had left the man barely able to walk for three days, and showed him that there truly was no place he could hide.

As Khan knew it would, the doctor's chain created a gap just wide enough to prevent the sliding door from fully fastening to its lock. It would take a little effort to overcome the door's inner mechanisms. Nothing an Augment couldn't manage...but it was a bit frustrating. Especially with his weakened leg.

"Come on out, doctor. You are only delaying the inev––"

"You're goddamn right I am!" McCoy called through the door. "Every second I stall's another second ya might come ta yer senses!"

"My senses are clear, doctor," Khan pocketed the hypo; crossed to the door. "I do not expect you to understand––"

"How you can go from promisin' ta protect me one minute, ta actively tryin' ta murder me the next? Yeah, it's kinda hard ta wrap my brain around!"

...He had said that. He _had_ made promises...

The Augment rested his head against the door; closed his eyes. "Things have changed, doctor. Other factors––"

"So ya don't need a doctor ta help keep your people from kickin' the bucket anymore? You're just gonna _wing_ sixty–odd cryogenic revivals all by your lonesome?"

Khan gritted his teeth.

That...that was a good point. If something else went wrong...

And what about after they were awake? He had wanted McCoy to train Doctor Hawkins on the new equipment...

But he _had_ to retaliate! He _had_ to show the Federation that atrocities committed against his people would not go unpunished!

It was either this, or the bombs, and if he began detonating bombs, the deal would dissolve completely, and he would never see his people again.

"...I don't have a choice."

Khan wedged his fingers into the gap in the doorway, and pulled.

The closing mechanism wanted nothing more than to go in the opposite direction...but it could not fight forever. He kept pulling, even as the muscles in his leg screamed for him to stop.

Finally, there was a groan, followed by a metallic screech...and the door gave way.

A blur of movement caught the Augment's eye; he ducked, and a bar of soap careened over his head.

"Was that _truly_ necessary?" Khan scowled; shoved the door back into the wall; searched for his captive.

...McCoy had backed himself into the far corner of the shower. He had a container of roll–on deodorant in one hand; his comb in the other.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the absurdity of the doctor's weapons made Khan snort.

"What exactly are you planning to do with those, doctor? Groom me to death?"

"For the love of God, Khan, think this through," McCoy pleaded. "I'm way more valuable ta you alive than dead, and you know it. Maybe I can help fix whatever's––"

"It cannot be fixed," Khan's mirth dissolved. "It can only be avenged. Put those...things...down, and come here. You do not deserve to die next to a commode."

"I'm not makin' this easier for you, asshole."

"Doctor, this is a complicated situation, and you are not helping––"

"Then explain it!" The doctor shouted. "I may not have an Augment _superbrain_ , but goddammit, ya don't become CMO of a starship by flunkin' outta med school!"

"Trust me, doctor, you do not want to kn––"

The deodorant went flying.

Khan caught the tube a few inches from his face; threw it to the ground; glared at his captive.

...Enough of that.

The Augment advanced; grabbed McCoy's wrists before the man could react; pinned them to his chest. The comb fell to the floor as McCoy thrashed; tried to stomp on Khan's toes, but the man was in soft slippers, and Khan's boots were thick. The doctor might as well have been trying to crush stone.

"Stop fighting," Khan barked. "You're just embarrassing yourse––"

"Screw you!" McCoy screamed. "I did everything you wanted, and you're _still_ gonna put me down! Tell me why, you lying piece of shi––"

Khan clamped his free hand over the man's mouth. " _Enough_ , doctor."

McCoy let out a muffled wail; tried to twist away from his grip.

"I SAID _ENOUGH_!"

Khan kneed him in the stomach.

The doctor's breath rushed out of his nose in one great huff. McCoy gagged; gasped; his feet folded under him; he slipped down the wall.

The killer dropped with his captive, wincing as the movement pulled at the freshly-healed muscles in his leg...but he refused to relent.

McCoy fell forward; his knees hit the floor with a thump. The man whimpered; his eyes closed; he began shaking with silent sobs.

...And guilt stabbed at Khan's stomach; spread like cold electricity up his spine.

"...Stop crying," Khan ordered. "You know it won't help you."

The doctor didn't respond; if anything, his sobs deepened.

The Augment gritted his teeth; sighed.

...He had hoped to avoid this. He had hoped...

Why had he needed to test McCoy's innocence? Knowing the truth just made this far more...difficult.

"...It won't hurt," the killer softened his tone. "I promise, I'll use the hypo. You will simply drift off to sleep, and...you won't wake up."

McCoy's eyes opened into...well, Khan wanted to call it an angry glare...but there was too much fear in the look; too much...betrayal.

"I'm sorry," Khan whispered. "I know I promised...I know you don't deserve...but I must do this. They have to pay...and...this...is my only real option."

Tears rolled down McCoy's scruffy cheeks; onto Khan's fingers. The killer grimaced; withdrew his hand, hoping the man wouldn't take the opportunity to beg.

"Just close your eyes," Khan wiped the tears on his coat; reached for the hyo. "It will be over soon. Just––"

"But _why_?" The doctor's voice cracked with frustration and fear. "Please...just tell me why this is happening."

...Damn.

Another wave of guilt surged through the killer, so visceral it almost felt like he'd been stabbed.

...Was it truly better to keep the truth from McCoy? Or was he just avoiding putting himself through the explanation?

...Perhaps the man did have a right to know.

"...Very well," Khan drew a deep breath; let it out. "Your people have committed a crime so cruel, so...so barbaric, that I cannot allow it to go unpunished. Even in my time, such practices were considered so heinous––"

"Skip the goddamn monologue!" McCoy gritted out. "Ya asked me before if I'd seen any sign of surgeries during Nitika's examination. What do ya think the Federation's done to your people?"

The killer glared. "It is not a matter of 'thinking,' doctor. I know they are guilty. And this horrific act cannot go unpuni––"

"Guilty. Of. What?"

...Withholding the information would not it any less true.

"They...they sterilized them," Khan relented. "The women in my crew...someone in the Federation performed hysterectomies on them. We cannot...there will be only one generation of my people."

McCoy stared.

"N...no...You're...you're screwin' with me. The Federation would _never_ -"

"I heard it from your captain's mouth!" Khan bellowed. "The very _concept_ of a world populated by Augments petrified those spineless insects so much that they stole the future from my people! The Federation is a society of _butchers_ masquerading as _saints!_ "

The little blood left in the doctor's face drained away. His mouth opened; closed; opened again. The man's eyes darted around in their sockets, his brain clearly struggling to reconcile his old reality with the new, until, finally...

"Dear God…" McCoy croaked. "You're not lyin'. They...they really...oh my God…"

...The man was truly horrified. There was no mistaking his shock and disgust as anything less than genuine.

...What else had Khan expected? This was McCoy.

This was the man he had to kill.

The terrorist rested his hand on the doctor's shoulder; his vision began to blur.

"Now do you understand? I...I must retaliate, but if I detonate a bomb, then the Federation will never return my crew. The agreement with the Klingons will dissolve, and my people will either die in their cryotubes, or be turned into pawns yet again. And I will, at best, be left stranded for the rest of my life on this moon...But by...by killing you, doctor, _I_ stay in control. I punish the Federation without losing the greater part of my leverage. You are a sacrificial lamb: too innocent for what will happen to you, but a necessary casu––"

"There's nothin' _necessary_ about this," McCoy looked at him with agony in his eyes. "You're hurt, and scared, and pissed, and I get that. What those bastards did...I don't have the words. But killin' me won't fix it. It won't undo what they've done. It'll just make you feel like ya did somethin' ta avenge your people––for 'bout _ten seconds_ ––and then you'll've blown any chance you might've had of gettin' Starfleet to reverse the procedures!"

...Reverse...

"...What do you mean, reverse?" It didn't make sense. "It is a missing organ! You cannot _reverse––_ "

"But ya can replace it," the doctor interjected. "Space travel is a dangerous business. Every Starfleet medbay worth its salt has the equipment ta grow new organs. On the Enterprise, I regrew people's lost eyes, and fingers, and––hell––one time I grew our security chief a new lung and kidney after he got skewered by a _bat'leth_! He was back on his feet in less than a month!"

The killer gaped. "You...you are telling me...this _actually_ can be reversed?"

"Absolutely," McCoy nodded. "Grown' the organs takes a couple weeks, but if ya've got a sample of healthy cells from the patient, then pretty much the only stuff that can't be regrown's the spinal cord and the brain, and Starfleet Medical's workin' on those every day!"

...Was that what Kirk had meant? Was that how he planned to _fix_ what those monsters had done?

...It did make sense. In all their previous interactions, Kirk had been an honorable opponent. Even when that fool Admiral Alston gave him a direct order to murder Nitika...he had refused.

A man like that would be disgusted by this atrocity. He would try to rectify the situation any way he could. He wouldn't...

And Kirk had said something about having "options" before the terrorist cut him off...If it truly were possible...

"...Could you perform the procedures here?" Khan asked hopefully.

"It'd be a pretty big risk," McCoy admitted. "Technically, I could do it...but a surgery like that's got a lot of variables; more than ya want just one doctor dealin' with...And since it sounds like this'll have ta be done almost thirty times...then it would be a lot safer ta let the doctors on the Enterprise do the surgeries, and have me check their work once the patients are released."

The Augment scoffed. "Oh yes: it is much safer to have the same butchers that sterilized––"

"There's no way _in_ _hell_ my staff did this," the doctor snapped. "Doctor M'Benga's one of the gentlest men I've ever known. He would _never_ allow a breach of ethics like that––"

"And what about Doctor Chapel?" Khan demanded. "You thought the same about her, did you not?"

McCoy grimaced. "Look, if I'm checkin' their work, then they can't pull crap, can they? I won't let 'em get away with it. Just give me a chance, and I'll make this right."

The killer studied his captive's face; searching for signs of deception.

...He found none.

This...this travesty truly could be reversed.

Relief flooded through him as his mind processed exactly what that meant.

...He released McCoy's wrists.

The doctor blinked, momentarily bewildered; then let out a deep breath; wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"...Thank you." McCoy gave him an uneasy smile. "I'll fix this, Khan. I swear-"

"I know you will," The Augment's voice cracked; his vision blurred again. "You...you are a good man, McCoy. I...I'm sorry I...here––"

Khan pulled his captive into a hug.

McCoy shrieked.

...In hindsight, he probably should have given the poor man a little warning.

But Khan didn't let go.

He needed this. He needed...

After a few tense moments, McCoy seemed to realize he was still alive.

"...Oh–okay...so we're...um..." A pair of hesitant, shaking hands wrapped around Khan's back; gave a light squeeze. "...'S fine. Hugs...hugs are fine. Just...just breathe, and––"

"Shut up." Scorching tears slipped from the killer's eyes; he buried his face in his captive's shoulder.

McCoy kept quiet; adjusted his hold; squeezed a little tighter.

It was...humiliating. An Augment bawling like an infant in the arms of his captive. If the others ever discovered how he had broken down...

"Never speak of this," Khan ordered with a sniffle.

"Wouldn't dream of it," McCoy patted him on the back. "...'S'Not like anybody'd believe me, anyway."

Despite himself, the terrorist chuckled at the man's feeble attempt at humor.

...They could fix this. They _would_ fix this.

His generation would not be the last.


	63. Chapter 63

This was his fault.

There were no excuses. No avoiding taking his share of the blame for everything that had––

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

Jim ignored the hail; stayed firmly seated on the edge of Bones' unmade bed. It'd been like that for two months, but every time he'd so much as thought about making it, or having someone else come tidy things up...

Tears welled up in Jim's eyes again; he wiped them away before they could drip onto the photograph resting on his lap.

Leonard hated getting his picture taken...but when Jim dragged him out to that improv show to let off some steam after their first set of finals, the guy'd been too tired to care.

And as rare as a non-blurry picture of Bones was...a picture like this, one of a sober but exhausted Leonard leaning up against his best friend, laughing his ass off...well...it had been Jim's duty to get it framed.

...He'd never hear that laugh again.

There...there was no way to save him. Khan would know well in advance if they sent a rescue team down by shuttle, and any attempts to take out the Botany Bay's shields risked hitting its engines; irradiating the entire moon.

Either option could kill Khan; force the detonation of his bombs.

...In truth, Bones was probably already dead.

God, what was he going to tell Donna and Fred? Or Bones' mom? Or...

...Joanna.

How could Jim ever look that little girl in the eye, knowing that his screw-ups were the reason she'd never see her father again? How could he...

Dammit, he'd let the Augments out of his sight; he'd _trusted_ his superiors to do the right thing, even when no one was watching!

What a naive, rookie mistake.

After that disaster with Admiral Marcus, he should have known to be vigilant! He should have _known_ that even in Starfleet, it wasn't safe to assume––

"Captain Kirk?" Uhura's urgent voice called again over the comm. "Captain, please respond."

...The Klingons were probably hailing them again. Wanting to know why they hadn't returned any of Khan's crew yet. They'd told Chancellor Gorkon that Khan had stopped responding to their hails, which was true...but that was all they'd told them. And the Klingons were getting antsy.

Understandably so...but Jim didn't have a clue what to tell them.

What would a Klingon's code of Honor drive them to do if they learned the truth? Would the knowledge of what had been done to the Augments be enough to destabilize the treaty?

...How could he stop it? How––

"Captain, we need you on the bridge _now_. Khan is hailing us."

Jim was on his feet before Uhura finished her sentence; he set the photo on Leonard's desk; slammed his hand on the comm panel.

"On my way! Don't let him off the line!"

The sprint back to the bridge was a blur; the ride in the turbolift an eternity...but finally, he made it there.

"––sulting my heritage will not make Captain Kirk reach the bridge any faster," Spock's...clipped...voice carried across the bridge. There was nothing on the viewscreen, but a quick glance to Uhura's station confirmed that an audio connection had been established. "He will be here momentarily, if you can restrain yourself from––"

"It's alright, Spock," Jim rushed to the center of the bridge; patted his friend on the back; tried to catch his breath. "I'll...I'll take over from here."

Spock looked...ready to break something...But at Jim's order, he simply nodded; stepped aside.

"Is that you, Kirk?" Khan's overly-cheery voice sent a chill up the captain's spine. "It is so _kind_ of you to join us. Your halfbreed friend was beginning to lose his temper."

The captain gritted his teeth; braced himself as best he could for...whatever this nightmare was going to be. "I'm here, Khan."

The viewscreen flicked to life.

Khan was...alone.

...There was no blood on his clothing; no scratches on his face. Nothing to suggest...

Like that meant anything.

"Hello, Captain," the killer grinned. "My computers say you attempted to hail me two hundred thirteen times since we last spoke. Is there something you would like to discuss?"

"What have you done to Doctor McCoy?" Jim had to know.

Khan frowned; tilted his head. "Done to him? Why would I do something to him?"

...That...psychopath.

"You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?" The captain felt his blood pressure rising; felt a prickle in his forehead. "The last time we spoke, you said you were going to murder Doctor McCoy. Is he––"

"Ah, of course," the killer raised an eyebrow; smirked. "I suppose _butchering_ the man was my initial impulse after learning of your treachery...But I had a change of heart. My _dear_ doctor can be quite... _persuasive_. Especially when he is terrified. Would you like to hear the details?"

Bile crept up the back of Jim's throat; he forced it back down.

...Was Khan telling the truth? Was Bones...

...They needed confirmation. _He_ needed...

"And how do I know he is still alive?" The captain made himself ask. "We can't pick up lifesigns through that moon's magnetic field. Do you expect us to just take your word for––"

"Of course not, Kirk," the terrorist huffed. "Do not work yourself into a fuss. Here…"

Khan pulled a PADD from his cost pocket; switched it on.

...A high angle view of a room Jim recognized popped onto the small screen.

Biobeds.

Bookshelves.

...And Bones.

His friend facing away from him; lying on the middle biobed. Even from the awkward angle, Jim could make out bruises on the back of Leonard's neck. The chain was back around his ankle.

"McCoy does not know I installed this camera, of course," Khan mused. "He likes his privacy...but if he did not want invasive security measures in his sleeping quarters, then he should not have tried to escape."

Jim didn't say a word. Anything he could say might...it was safer for Bones if he stayed quiet.

His friend rolled over on the biobed; sat up. There were more bruises across his face; on the sides of his neck. His eyes looked puffy, and...desperately...sad.

...What had Khan done to him?

Leonard's bright red blanket was half-draped over the side of the biobed. The doctor leaned down; groped for something underneath it; came back up with a half-empty, square bottle.

"Back into the Scotch," Khan shook his head; tisked as Bones took a long swig. "I suppose I shouldn't blame him for needing something after that...ordeal. I have been so...gentle...with him lately; he truly had no idea what was about to happen when I––"

"How do we know that's not just a recording?" The captain desperately cut him off. "There's too much electromagnetic interference to make out lifesigns on the moon's surface. You could've recorded that video any time in the last––"

"Say when."

Jim blinked. "...What?"

"You want to be certain that McCoy is alive?" Khan raised an eyebrow. "Then say 'when.'"

"...What are you going to do if I say it?"

"Something non–lethal," the terrorist shrugged. "But if you insist upon being stubborn, I can simply go snap his neck. Which do you pre––"

"No!" Jim blurted. "You don't have to _…'When_.'"

Khan grinned, and pressed a button on the control panel.

An alarm blared.

Bones jumped; splashed Scotch down his blue button-up shirt.

The alarm kept going.

The doctor grimaced; set the bottle down on his biobed; turned towards the door...and waited.

"Just like Pavlov's dog," Khan laughed over the noise. "For the past few weeks, I used that alarm to warn us of approaching ships. He probably believes we are under attack. Should I ease his nerves, Kirk?"

...Asshole really liked his mind games, didn't he? What the hell was he planning to...

Focus.

Khan couldn't've timed Bone's reaction in a pre–recorded video. Not that precisely.

Leonard was still alive.

And Jim needed to play along to keep him that way.

"...Fine," the captain reluctantly nodded. "Just please, don't hurt him."

The killer chuckled. "You always think the worst of me."

"You haven't given me much of a reason––"

"Glass houses, Captain," Khan glared. "Your Federation lost the moral high ground a long time ago...but I am not quite as cruel as you believe. For example…"

The Augment switched off the alarm; put a finger to his lips; pressed another button on the control panel.

"Everything is alright, doctor."

Bones jumped again; looked around the room for the source of Khan's voice.

"...'S'not funny Khan," the doctor's speech was slightly slurred. "If ya wanna try yer hand at a practical joke...I'd appreciate it if ya'd start with somethin' a little less––"

"My apologies if the alarm startled you," the terrorist continued as if he couldn't hear his captive's comment. "I was testing a modification to the intercom...the final results of which should be fairly evident. If you can hear this, then please press the bottom button on the control panel by the medbay door."

Bones hesitated, then pushed himself off the biobed; staggered to the panel; pressed the button.

"...Khan?"

"Hello, doctor," the killer singsonged. "It appears the intercom is completely functional again. Are you feeling better?"

"Depends'on yer definition a 'better,'" the doctor muttered. "I'll be in a different shirt the next time ya come down 'ere. Kinda spilled...something."

"From the sound of your voice, I am fairly certain I know what that _something_ was," Khan...teased. "Having a midday drink, McCoy?"

"...More'n one," Bones admitted. "Ya said we wouldn't be wakin' up any of your people today...and apparently, I can still get drunk...But if ya need me sober right now, there's some meds I can take ta––"

"That won't be necessary," the terrorist assured him. "The first members of my crew will not be arriving until tonight. We can begin reviving them in the morning, once you have had time to sort the supplementary medical supplies your friend is sending down with my––"

"Don't call 'em that," Leonard growled. "Kirk's'not...he's not my friend. No friend of mine'd help butcher...That freakin' psychopath can rot in hell fer all I care, got it?"

...He didn't mean that.

Bones just...he just didn't have all his facts straight. There was no telling what warped version of events Khan was feeding him, and Jim refused to blame Leonard for something completely out of his control.

...But man...it still hurt to hear him say it.

"You have made yourself _perfectly_ clear," the killer gave Jim a grin. "Now, while I have you on the line: I thought you might enjoy a few extra rations at lunch. Is there anything in particular you would like?"

Bones blinked; shifted on his unsteady feet.

"...Ya got any dried apples left?"

"I believe so. I have also found some dried blueberries in storage, if you would like something a bit different?"

Leonard's posture perked up; his face brightened. "That'd be real nice...Thanks."

"You're welcome, McCoy. See you soon."

Khan took his finger off the comm; switched off the PADD. He smirked; tilted his head...and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think I could convince him to eat the fruit directly from my hand, or is that too on–the–nose?"

Jim bit back his retort; took a deep breath.

...Leonard was alive.

Insulting his captor wouldn't help keep him that way.

"Can I speak to him?" The captain tried to make it sound like he wasn't begging. "I want to make sure––"

"He does not wish to see you," Khan interrupted. "My doctor is appalled by the Federation's actions. So much so that when this is all over, McCoy has told me he wishes to resign his commission, and remain with my people. I am tempted to honor his request."

...Bullshit.

"Forgive me for not taking you at your word," Jim said frankly. "Doctor McCoy would never abandon his daughter. Staying with you would mean––"

"Joanna was McCoy's primary concern, that is true," Khan smirked. "But as the Federation already knows where we are, my old concerns over being traced through my subspace beacon are now null and void...and as such, McCoy will be able to keep in regular contact with his daughter without ever leaving this moon. One of the perks of our...arrangement."

...There was no way Bones wanted this. Not really.

M'Benga had explained how this worked. Even if he'd said the words, Leonard was a hostage. One that had been repeatedly tortured. His survival instincts were in overdrive. Agreeing to something like this kept his captor happy; lowered his odds of being killed. It wasn't a real––

"And what about his xenopolycythemia?" Spock inquired. "If you force Doctor McCoy to remain on your colony, he will be unable to receive the medical care needed to––"

"Did you ever bother to locate Doctor Hawkins?"

...Jim didn't like where this was headed.

"...We did," the captain nodded. "A man matching the description you gave us is in a cryotube in our medbay. Right down to the trumpet tattoo."

"How fortunate," Khan grinned. "You needn't worry about your friend's health: Hawkins is an excellent surgeon. Once McCoy gives him a few lessons in modern medical instruments, my old friend will be perfectly capable of performing any surgeries that may be necessary. If I decide to keep him, then McCoy will live a long... _long_ life by my side."

...Khan had an answer for everything, didn't he?

"We are _not_ going to let you ' _keep'_ Doctor McCoy," Jim tried not to growl. "What happened to your people is not his fault. He doesn't deserve to be imprisoned for––"

"Feel grateful that I agree with part of your assessment, Kirk," Khan glared. "McCoy is still in one piece due in no small part to my belief in his innocence. A belief supported by a series of scans I had him run on the body of my friend, Nitika. She was...to use the most delicate phrasing I can muster right now... _intact_. Had this not been the case, you would currently be weeping, and I would be using McCoy's severed head as an oversized hacky sack."

Jim almost retched.

He wasn't alone. The captain heard Spock draw in a disgusted breath; heard Chekov muttering something in Russian under his breath from across the bridge; saw Sulu pat the Ensign reassuringly on the back. He could only imagine what look must've been on Uhura's face...

...But they didn't have time to dwell on Khan's threat.

They needed...he needed to stay focused.

...The Augment Admiral Alston had endangered...she had died. A woman who had never hurt them; who never even knew they _existed_...she was dead because of his mistakes.

Jim had wondered what had happened to her; had wondered why only two lifesigns had shown up in their scans before the Botany Bay landed. And that...that explained it...even if it wasn't the answer he'd hoped for...and even if he was very... _very_ confused as to how and why Khan had kept her body for so long...

At least this new information helped establish a timeframe for the surgeries; it could even help them figure out who had sterilized the Augments.

He just wished it hadn't come at such a high price.

"I'm sorry your friend didn't make it, Khan," Jim meant every word. "If I had known what Admiral Alston had planned, I never would have––"

"And _that_ is the reason your living quarters did not go up in flames when Alston's did," the terrorist remarked bluntly. "But in your case, ignorance is not a complete defense. Especially not when _two_ atrocities were committed right under your nose. That kind of incompetence deserves a special form of punishment, wouldn't you agree?"

...Was _that_ what he was getting at? Was _that_ what he really wanted?

"Khan...if it means you'll let Doctor McCoy go free when this is all over...then I'll take his place. He deserves to be with his family. Just––"

"You do realize that this is the _third time_ you have made that offer, correct?" Khan interrupted with a snort. "You are always so ready to sacrifice yourself; to give your life for those you love...but you still don't seem to understand: _I've done far worse than kill you, Kirk_. I've _hurt_ you. And I would like to _go on_ hurting you. And if I cannot have what I _truly_ want, then I want you _alive_ ; out having glorious adventures; free to live the lie of the Federation's dystopia...and all the while knowing that your failures led to your friend's _continuing_ fate; that if you had been more vigilant––more aware of the ease in which your leaders could slip into cruelty––you might have been able to prevent what happened to my family. And as you receive medals, and promotions, and accolades...your dear friend will still be here, with me; _grateful_ for the _privilege_ of speaking to his daughter through a tiny screen...and he will curse your name in the same breath as Kodos the Executioner."

Jim went rigid.

"...What did you just say?"

"Jim…" Spock's voice was tense; close to pleading.

"Have I struck a nerve?" Khan chuckled. "I learned all about the events on Tarsus IV during my time with Section-31. In fact, my official files actually listed me as one of the eyewitnesses to the massacre. A simple fabrication, given that the real eyewitnesses have never publicly come forward. Admiral Marcus must have thought it added a touch of tragedy to my cover; that if my early memories ever resurfaced, I would attribute them to that event. It did not quite work as he had planned. But I find that massacre to be a _fascinating_ look at how little has actually changed in the Human psyche in the past three hundred years...and how thin the line between good and evil can be. Personally, I believe Kodos would have been labeled a hero had those supplies not arrived early, but I am certain a bright-eyed idealist like you––"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to Kodos," the captain seethed. "You have no idea what he did. No idea what it was like––"

"And you do?" Khan laughed. "Come now, Kirk: empathy can only go so far––"

"I WAS THERE!"

The terrorist blinked; tilted his head.

"...What did you just––"

"I. Was. There." Jim trembled with rage. "I'm one of the _actual_ Tarsus Nine, you ignorant dick. I watched people I cared about get _vaporized_ because that _psychopath_ thought they were useless. I heard them plead for help that I couldn't give. I almost starved to death, and my friends had to _force-feed_ me because I...I _knew_ that the extra _scrap_ on my plate had come from the mouths of those innocent people...and I just couldn't...So don't you _dare_ compare me to that monster. Don't you _dare_ pretend that you know a _thing_ about me, and don't you _dare_ pretend you have a monopoly on suffering!"

A mist formed in the captain's vision. He blinked it away; took a deep breath...and realized what he'd done.

...He could feel everyone staring at him. Could feel the horror on their faces...

Only Spock had known about Tarsus IV. And even he hadn't known about...

...Don't look around.

Keep it together.

Keep focused on Khan.

Dare him to say something first.

The Augment was silent for a long time. Squinting at him; studying him like...like...

Jim wasn't sure what...but it probably wasn't a good sign.

Finally, Khan raised his eyebrows; his mouth opened.

"...Huh."

The captain's lip twitched; he glared.

"That's all you have to say?"

"I...was not expecting that," Khan admitted. "That information is...Does McCoy know about this part of your past?"

...Jim honestly didn't know. He'd never told Bones about it...but he'd also had some pretty bad nightmares when they were roommates at the Academy...and there was his whole crappy diet thing. Leonard might've been able to piece it together...

"...It's not something I'm in the habit of bringing up."

"No...I wouldn't imagine..." The Augment huffed. "Well, I see now why McCoy liked you so much: there is _far_ more rattling around in that head of yours than you let on, isn't there?"

"Why don't we just get back to the point?" Jim deflected. "Before you got caught up in your mind games, it sounded like there was something specific you wanted in exchange for Doctor McCoy's freedom. Something more than you've already been offered. So, name your price. What _exactly_ do you want?"

Khan studied him a moment more; nodded.

"Alright, Kirk: as one survivor of childhood trauma to another, I will be frank. I have a _number_ of new conditions for your friend's release. Some of which you will undoubtedly jump to accommodate...and some that will leave you with an uncomfortable feeling under your skin."

...What else had he expected?

"What are they?"

"First, a question," Khan said. "My dear doctor has informed me that all is not lost when it comes to my people having children. What are _your_ solutions to the atrocity your people committed?"

...Of course.

They'd planned on having this talk anyway...Jim'd just hoped to talk things over with the Admirals before he made any promises.

But that wasn't an option anymore.

Starfleet Command would just have to deal with it.

"There's a couple options," Jim began. "We have already started working on one of them: the option to grow a new uterus for each woman in your crew. The process takes time, and we only have enough regeneration units available on the Enterprise to grow six organs at any given moment. But in another four and a half days, the first six will be ready for implantation...if the patients agree to it."

"Ah, yes: _that_ ethical conundrum," Khan snorted. "You truly backed yourself into a corner, Kirk: if your doctors had replace the organs without telling my people what you were doing, their careers will be over. But telling my people what has been done to them _before_ asking their permission is a sure way to have a massacre on your hands...Not to mention that you would need to go against my _explicit_ instructions to not wake any of my people before they are returned to me...Honestly, what kind of elaborate ruse were you concocting to keep them aboard your ship long enough to perform the surgeries? How did you think this would go?"

...He didn't have an answer to that. They'd...never gotten that far.

"Like I said the last time you hailed us, this is a complicated situation," Jim reminded him. "And we were going to tell you before we made any final decisions...you just beat us to the punch."

"So you say," the Augment said doubtfully. "And what other " _options"_ do you claim to have considered?"

"Well, we knew you would be angry when you found out about...all this...So angry that you there was a good chance you wouldn't trust us enough to perform the surgeries. And then Spock came up with another plan. It relies on a different approach to reproduction than is typically––"

"Skip the babbling preamble. Tell me what it is."

"An artificial womb," Spock stepped in. "They have been used for centuries by parents who cannot or choose not to endure a natural birth. The past fifty years of research has expanded this field of medicine to allow members of different species to have children. My own parents used one for a portion of my gestation in order to monitor any potential complications that could have arisen from my unique heritage. We keep two such devices aboard at all times, in case of a medical emergency. As with the technologies used to grow organs, one needs a set of viable tissue samples, one from each progenitor...but if those samples are able to be converted into a zygote, then two genetically compatible individuals can have a child without anyone needing to become pregnant."

Khan gaped.

"Are you saying...that _any_ two Humans can have a child? _Any_ combination of Human DNA, regardless of the donors' genders, can be used in this process?"

"That's right," Jim nodded. "One of the perks of the Twenty Third Century."

"Then I want a _hundred_ of these 'artificial wombs' delivered alongside my people," the Augment ordered. "As well as any supplementary materials needed to ensure they can be operated safely for at least five years. And send all nineteen members of my crew currently in your custody to me, tonight."

...That was a lot of potential kids.

And by sending all the Augments now...

"Are you sure you want to go that route, Khan?" Jim had to ask. "The women in your crew might want the surgeries––"

"Do you know how dangerous childbirth can be, Captain?" Khan's lips pressed into a thin line. "I do not want to lose any of my people to something so... _mundane_...if it can be completely avoided. I believe they will understand...given time. And despite McCoy's assurances about the character of his former medical staff, you were right: I am not inclined to trust your doctors to perform surgeries on my people. The artificial wombs are the safer option, and will allow _far_ more of my people to have children than was previously going to be possible."

"...Alright," the captain didn't trust the wave of relief he felt. "Then that's what we'll do."

"Good," the Augment paused for a moment; tilted his head. "...But give me the equipment to grow organs as well. This moon holds untold dangers; I want my doctors to have as many tools at their disposal as possible. And...if any of my people ever decide they would rather have a natural birth...I want them to have that choice."

"That's...more than fair," Jim agreed. "We'll get the devices we have aboard sent over, and requisition more from Starfleet Command the moment the Xedna Eight beacon comes back online."

"Which will happen once we finish this conversation," Khan remarked stiffly. "Now, as to my other demands: I have heard there is a tool used in cosmetic surgeries that can safely and permanently add melanin to the Human eye. You are going to give me one of those devices."

...Why?

"What could you _possibly_ need with––"

"That fool Marcus took _pains_ to keep me from discovering my identity," Khan grimaced. "And although I am unwilling to be put under sedation for anything but a life-threatening injury...I have been assured _this_ procedure can be performed on a conscious patient. I would like to have my eyes back."

Jim sucked in a breath.

...To have his eyes...

"Wait...you're saying Admiral Marcus––"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Kirk. Do you agree?"

"...Yeah," the captain nodded. "We'll get you one."

"Sooner rather than later, if you would be so kind."

"...Anything else?"

"Of course," Khan smirked. "I want Doctor Chapel to _personally_ deliver my people. She can bring any security precautions and personnel she deems necessary for her safety...but _every time_ a member of my crew is brought down to the surface...I want her there."

Jim's tension headache throbbed; he pinched the bridge of his nose.

...Christine wouldn't like this...but she'd do it if he asked.

"Fine, Khan. If you swear that you won't try to hurt her––"

"If she did not perform the sterilizations, then attacking her would be more effort than it is worth," the killer waived his hand dismissively. "But if it makes you feel better: I swear not to kill or maim her...She and I just need to have a couple little...chats."

...Why was that not at all comforting?

"...She'll be there," Jim reluctantly agreed. "Any other demands?"

"Just one," Khan's face hardened; his eyes narrowed. "If you _ever_ discover who sterilized my people, Kirk, whether it be tomorrow, or _fifty years_ from now...you will give me the names."

Jim's gut clenched. "...What will you do with that information?"

"That depends on a multitude of factors," Khan stiffly shrugged. "I can only promise that compliance will lead to a...measured...application of justice. One that takes pains to avoid collateral damage. But if I discover that the names have been deliberately kept from me...well...my response will make the past two months look like a string of petty thefts. Understand?"

"Khan, more threats aren't––"

"If you discovered tomorrow that Kodos had faked his own death, and had spent the last fifteen years living in peaceful luxury, can you truly say you would leave him in peace? And would you let those who harbored him for so long walk away without so much as a scratch? Be honest with yourself, Captain."

"I don't like dealing in hypotheticals––"

"Alright then: how about something a little more immediate? A nice little _reminder_ of something you _somehow_ seem to be forgetting?"

The captain scowled. "And what would that be?"

The killer leaned into the display; his icy...blue...eyes bored into Jim's.

"At any moment, Kirk," Khan growled. "I can destroy your friend––mind, body and _soul––_ at any moment. And if you do not agree to _all_ of my terms within the next ten seconds, I will not hesitate. Do we understand each other?"

Jim gritted his teeth.

He...he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't...

This could come back to bite him. Hard.

...But what choice did he have?

"Khan...You have a deal."


	64. Chapter 64

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Christine blinked; turned away from the closed airlock of their shuttle; shrugged at the security officer who was trying his hardest not to look nervous.

"It's a little late to second guess myself," she reminded him. "We've already set down the cargo container; if we leave now, Khan will probably take it as a sign that this is a trap."

"True," Hendorff nodded; sighed. "But I still don't like this. He's had _hours_ to prepare for us––he even burned a giant circle into the grass to tell us where to drop the cargo container. What if he's buried landmines of some sort where we landed? From a security perspective _alone_ , this whole arrangement is a nightmare. I can't imagine..."

" _You_ zink it is a nightmare?" Pavel grumbled from the front of the shuttle. "Zat madman has stolen technologies from multiple bases. Ef he has any weapons on zat ship of his, and decides to use zem, zen zere's no telling if our shields will hold."

"It will be _fine_ , Pavel," Christine reassured him. "...Just keep your fingers near the thrusters, okay?"

"I never planned to turn zem off all ze way."

"Good," Christine nodded; took a deep breath. "The faster we get through this, the faster we can be back in the safety of the Enterprise...So let's do this."

Hendorff nodded; pressed a button on the control panel by the airlock door.

The force field separating the interior of the shuttle from the outside atmosphere flashed with static as the airlock opened; then faded into an invisible barrier...and Christine found herself watching the quadrant's most wanted terrorist step out of the Botany Bay; cross to them.

Face–to–face with him...Christine _really_ felt grateful for their shield. Khan was...alone, but nowhere near unarmed. He was carrying a phaser rifle; had another strapped to his back. His clothes were...different...from what she'd seen him wear before: his green shirt fit loosely on his body...but when he raised his free arm; waived...Christine was sure she saw multiple knives strapped to his waist.

"Hello, Doctor Chapel!" Khan smiled sweetly as he reached the shielded shuttle entrance. "I was worried you might refuse to come. How are things going with that puppy–dog navigator of yours?"

Christine tensed; glanced back into the shuttle before she realized what she was doing.

" _Oh_ , he's flying the shuttle, isn't he?" Khan looked over her shoulder; into the cockpit. "Hello, _Pavel_! Isn't it a lovely day?"

" _Yest' der'mo_!" Pavel snapped from his position at the helm.

"Such _language_ ," the Augment tisked. "I must admit it pleases me that English was not the only Human language to survive to this century...but I do find it a bit disappointing that the universal translator does not decipher curses. There are so many _nuances_ that English alone simply cannot capture––"

"Are we going to have a chat about linguistics," Hendorff scowled. "Or are we going to finish this transfer?"

Khan shot the Lieutenant a dirty look; rolled his eyes.

"Come on out, McCoy!

A scruffy head poked out from the side of the Botany Bay's airlock; Doctor McCoy stepped out onto the grass.

"It's good to see you, Doc," Hendorff smiled at his friend. "How are––"

"As you said, we should skip the banter," Khan's annoyed voice cut him off. "Is there a code to open the container?"

The Lieutenant scowled...then took a deep breath. "The code is 8467. Your people are at the front of the container. Still in stasis, just as you requested."

"Good," Khan nodded; looked behind him to see his captive still making his way carefully across the grass. "Hurry up, McCoy. A little blood won't hurt you."

...A little...

Christine scanned the ground...and noticed that large patches of the grass was still splotched brownish–red with dried blood from Khan's battle with the Klingons.

...Then, with a flare of fury, she realized McCoy wasn't wearing shoes. Or even socks.

Khan was making him walk across a _battlefield_ , and _still_ hadn't given him a way to protect his feet! What kind of...

...Getting mad wouldn't help McCoy. At best, Khan would find it funny. And at worst...

...At least the _rest_ of McCoy's outfit was climate–appropriate: tan, knee–length shorts, and a loose–fitting, short–sleeved button–up in a tropical print, with little...

...Wait.

Christine's breath caught in her throat.

...Oh God.

That shirt looked _exactly_ like one she had once gotten for Roger on Risa!

That...that _was_ Roger's shirt, wasn't it?

She'd known that Khan had stolen everything he could get his hands on from the bases he massacred, but she hadn't stopped to think about him possibly taking––

"What's wrong?" McCoy asked as he reached Khan's side. "I know I'm a bit scruffy, Chapel, but you're starin' at me like I've got a third eyeball or somthin'..."

"Yes, Doctor Chapel," Khan locked eyes with her; grinned. "You do appear distressed. _Is_ something wrong?"

...That...that monster.

He...he knew that was Roger's shirt! He _knew..._

Khan had staged this. He'd staged this to hurt her. A last jab of pain that psychopath could force out of someone who had...who had once treated him like a lab rat.

...She'd never live that shame down. It would follow her no matter what position she took from thereon out. It would...

She should've objected sooner; should've spoken up well before...

Did...did Khan think she'd had something to do with the sterilizations? That she'd...

This stunt was almost enough to make her wish she had.

But that was just her grief talking; her rage at seeing another man sporting Roger's stolen clothes. She'd never actually––

"Seriously, Chapel, ya might wanna sit down a minute." The worry on her old colleague's face was unmistakably genuine. "You're lookin' a bit pale."

...McCoy didn't know.

If she said anything, it would only hurt him.

"I'm fine, Leonard," Christine set her jaw; tried to give him a smile. "It's just been a long couple months."

"Months that are not quite over yet, Chapel." Khan's voice sounded...smug. "I would like to bring my people inside before the sun sets."

Christine glared at him. "Five of the cryotubes in the front are hooked up to portable power cells. Their internal power cells were damaged sometime before––"

"Kirk already explained," the Augment huffed. "And his chief engineer walked me through the precautions I will need to take to revive them. There is no need to repeat the information."

Christine blinked. "Then...why did you want me here?"

Khan...smirked in a way Christine really didn't like.

"...Doctor McCoy," the killer said sweetly. "Why don't you check that these _fine officers_ brought everything...and everyone...they were supposed to this evening. As the Lieutenant said, the code is 8467. Let me know if anything is out of place...and be careful when you open it. I doubt any trap they set would be lethal, but there could be something...uncomfortable...waiting for you inside."

"We didn't set any traps," Hendorff bristled. "You wanted your people, and we're giving you your people. There's too many lives at stake to risk––"

"If that is true, then my people will be safely indoors before the sun goes down," Khan raised an eyebrow. "And McCoy and I can enjoy a celebratory dinner by a campfire. That gas giant is _lovely_ at sunset, isn't it, McCoy?"

"Uh..." The captive shifted uncomfortably. "I...was too focused on treatin' ya last night ta really notice. Blood loss, and all that..."

"Ah, yes," the Augment chuckled; tousled his hair. "Of course, you were focused on more important matters...Well, you will see it this evening. And we can enjoy some of the fresh food our gracious adversaries have brought us. Is that acceptable?"

McCoy's face brightened a little. "Yeah, that sounds...I'll get started on inventory."

"Good man," Khan gave him a pat on the back as the doctor turned; walked over to the cargo container.

The container was twice the size of their shuttle; it was just one of many they would have to bring down to this moon before this mess was over. It was originally meant for transporting parts for the warp nassels...but it served just as well for safely delivering a group of super soldiers to their leader...along with a list of supplies as long as her arm.

"He truly has come a long way in the past two months," Khan mused. "I remember this _phase_ he went through early on, where I had to _break a rib_ before he would even––"

"You never answered my question," Christine interrupted. "Why did you want me here, if you already––"

"If you _must_ know, doctor," Khan inclined his head towards where McCoy was tapping the code into the cargo bin's door. "I did not make your presence during these transfers part of the deal for that man's life for your expertise on Augments and cryostasis. I did it because of how you came upon that knowledge. Because I know what you did to me on Xedna Eight."

Christine's stomach dropped.

"What...what are you––"

"Let's keep this discussion _honest_ , Chapel," Khan scowled. "It was not a large leap of logic to realize that you likely _worked_ in the same facility as your fiance. I still have not pieced together _exactly_ how you survived my escape...but I know you were one of the doctors who experimented on me."

Hendorff sucked in an outraged breath. "Just because _you_ commit atrocities at the top of a hat––"

"Don't, Hendorff..." Christine sighed. "...He's right. To an extent."

The Augment raised an eyebrow. "Then you do not deny my claims?"

...She'd left before the worst of it. She'd tried to stop them from...

Did that even matter?

"It...it isn't as simple as you make it sound."

Khan laughed. "You Starfleet officers love that phrase! Of course it wasn't _simple_ , but that doesn't mean you were in the right."

...He had her there.

"That still doesn't explain why you wanted me here," Christine deflected. "Do you want me to trade places with Doctor McCoy? Is that what––"

"I believe McCoy would be a bit offended were I to replace him _now_ ," Khan snorted. "No, doctor...I just wanted to hear your confession...and to administer your punishment...as relatively _lenient_ as our current positions force me to be."

Christine tried to suppress a gulp. "...And what exactly do you have in mind?"

"It is quite simple, really," Khan smirked. "At the end of every transfer, I will tell you a variation on the same story: how _exactly_ did _dear_ _Roger_ die?"

The doctor went rigid; her throat constricted from pain and shock.

He...he wouldn't...

...Of course he would.

"You jackass," Hendorff growled. "What good is it going to do to––"

"I'm sorry, was I talking to you?" The Augment glared at the security officer. "I do not mind if you want to stand there and pretend you would have even the _slightest_ chance of being able to protect Doctor Chapel were this force field to fail, but at least try not to interrupt our conversation."

Hendorff sucked in another deep breath; Christine touched his arm; shook her head. The Lieutenant gave her a questioning look...then nodded.

The doctor turned back to Khan. "What happens if I refuse to stand here and listen to your lies?"

"Oh, they won't all be lies, doctor," the killer huffed. " _One_ story will be the absolute, honest truth...but I doubt you will be able to decipher which story it is. And if you _do_ refuse to listen; if you refuse to be present for _every_ transfer...then you will have betrayed the terms of our agreement, and I will use the last scenario I described before your cowardice kicked in as a blueprint for McCoy's execution. Trust me when I say that this is one threat you do not want to test."

...A blueprint for...

"Leave him alone," Christine glared. "Doctor McCoy hasn't done anything to earn that kind of––"

"Oh, but _you_ have earned it," Khan glowered. "And far, far more. Had I known of your existence when I escaped Xedna Eight, it would have been _you_ chained to a biobed for two months; not my dear _friend_ , McCoy. But because you hid yourself away, I was forced to take the _wrong hostage_. So if you break our deal, he will pay for _all_ of the atrocities Starfleet doctors like you have committed against my people."

...Was this all her fault? Was what had happened to McCoy...

No.

"I didn't cause this," Christine argued. "I wasn't even on Xedna Eight when you escaped, and I am _not_ the one who...Anything I did, it was under the orders of Admiral––"

"Under _orders_!?" Khan hissed. " _That_ is your excuse? _That_ is how you justify the experiments you and the other doctors on Xedna Eight performed on me?"

Christine gritted her teeth. "I...I didn't mean it like––"

"I know _exactly_ what you meant," the Augment snapped. "Do you know why I view your transgressions as worse than McCoy's? Because what he did, he did out of _love_. In the entire time I was in custody on the Enterprise, McCoy only took two samples of my blood: one which I gave him willingly in order to confirm my story, and one to save Kirk's life––the life of a man who was as close to him as a brother. And I can _respect_ that; I can even admit now that I likely would have made the same decision. _Your team_ , on the other hand, _drained_ me of as much blood as you thought I could spare for your little experiments. I was nothing more than a _blood bank_ to you––a source of scientific _curiosity_. Tell me again how none of that was your choice."

Christine opened her mouth to defend herself...but stopped.

…Once again...he was right.

None of them should've followed Yearling's orders. They should've... _she_ should've refused to take so much as a single blood sample without Khan's consent. She should've...

"...I know what I did," Christine confessed. "It was...reprehensible. And all I can say is that if I could go back and do things differently, I would try to stop what happened to you."

"You would _try_?" The Augment snorted. "Come now, Chapel: you can do better than––"

"You wanted honesty," Christine tried to keep her voice steady. "And I'm giving you an honest answer. I _want_ to believe that I would be able to convince an _entire medical staff_ to disobey a direct order––to _mutiny_ against Admiral Yearling rather than break their oaths...but given what happened when I _did_ put my foot down, I can't say with certainty that I could've changed their minds. Those doctors _hated_ you for what you did in London and San Francisco...and so did I. And the _second_ I started questioning the ethics of what we were doing, I got booted to the edge of a black hole. Maybe if I'd spoken up sooner, the other doctors would've realized what we were doing was wrong...Maybe I could've...but I can't know for sure. And that uncertainty is going to haunt me for the rest of my life."

The Augment stared at her for a moment, piercing blue eyes studying her face. Finally, he raised an eyebrow; gave a small nodd.

"...As it should," Khan huffed. "Very well, _doctor_...as a reward for your _honesty_ , your first scenario will be something...simple. Your fiance died on his knees, unable to stand after I stabbed him in the stomach with a six–inch carving knife. He begged me not to kill him, but at that point, ending it quickly was a mercy. The man sobbed as I shot him in the head."

Christine's heart clenched.

...No...

Despite her best efforts, the doctor's breath started coming far too fast; she felt tears sting her eyes.

Was...was that the real way he'd died, or was that a lie?

What had Khan done to Roger? What had...

A hand rested on her shoulder; gave a gentle squeeze. She looked up to see Hendorff looking at her, concern and fury duking it out on his face. She leaned into the touch; forced herself to take a deep breath.

"I'm fine, Hendorff," Christine glared at Khan. "I'm stronger than he thinks I am."

"Oh, I don't think you are _weak_." Khan smirked. "But this is only the beginning, Chapel. You are going to have to go through this again. And again. And again, until all of my people and all of my supplies have been delivered to me. And each time, I will have a different story for you. And just _wait_ until you hear––"

"'S'all there," McCoy's voice reverberated a little as he walked out of the cargo container. "All nineteen Augments, safe and sound; along with..."

The captive trailed off; stared at Christine.

"...What's happening?"

"Just a tearful confession of past sins," Khan shrugged, not bothering to look behind him. "And a simple rebuke. Nothing that was not deserved."

"...Right," McCoy sounded...conflicted. "Well...um...all the supplies they said they'd drop off this time are there too. Fresh food; medical supplies...there's even some basic cots and bedding secured in the back."

"Perfect," the terrorist nodded. "Then I believe our visitors have reached the end of their welcome. Come and say goodbye."

Obediently, McCoy crossed to his captor's side; nodded stiffly at Hendorff and Christine.

"Goodbye."

...How much of it was an act?

"We'll be back, Leonard," Hendorff promised.

"Oh, I certainly hope so," Khan locked eyes with Christine again; wrapped an arm around McCoy's shoulders. "On your way."

Hendorff moved to close the airlock, Khan winked at Christine.

"See you soon, Doctor Chapel...Very soon."


	65. Chapter 65

_Everything felt...strange._

" _...ate twenty two sixty one poin…"_

 _There were bright white spots in Gideon's vision...even though he was pretty sure his eyes were closed._

" _...asterd Kirk's keepin'...the deal so far…"_

 _His skin felt...tender...and somehow...numb._

" _...all the Au...ood health…"_

 _His throat felt ready to flake apart...he was so thirsty..._

" _...ook the first...asis an hour ag..."_

 _And there was a...voice...echoing through his head; constantly warping in speed and tembre and other...bizarre ways._

" _...pefully...ake up in another hour or...if...an's estimate is cor...t."_

 _He needed...needed to focus. This felt too...it didn't feel like a dream. Which meant..._

 _...Focus._

 _Gideon sucked in a deep breath; let it out._

 _The white spots started to fade from his vision._

 _...Progress._

 _Another breath in; another out._

" _...hope he's really some kinda pacifist."_

 _The voice was still...faint...but far more understandable._

 _In...Out._

" _This situation's gonna be tough enough without...tossed 'cross the room..."_

 _In…Out..._ In.

The spots faded completely; Gideon carefully cracked open his eyes...and slowly focused in on an unfamiliar, rusted ceiling.

...Where...where was he?

...The last thing Gideon remembered...he'd just climbed into a stasis chamber.

He...he'd been scared. They were...his friends and family were...escaping from Earth...Running away from a world about to blast itself into a nuclear winter.

He was second–to–last to go under. In case something had gone wrong with any of the others, and they needed a doctor.

Only Khan had stayed awake after him...to launch the ship.

To set them free.

...All their differences aside, Gideon'd never respected Khan more than he had at that moment. Only a true leader would risk putting himself into cryostasis without anyone there to help if something went wrong. Khan hadn't made any of of his people take that risk: he took it all on himself––

"Not that he'll be in much shape ta throw anythin' fer awhile...I think."

Gideon tensed; his mind snapped back to the...confusing...present.

...Wherever he was...whatever was going on...there was _definitely_ someone there with him.

And he...he didn't recognize that voice.

Dread clenched Gideon's nauseous stomach.

...He knew _everyone_ in his crew. All eighty four people that'd fled with him...they'd grown up together. He would know their voices _anywhere_.

"But so far, he's doin' pretty good."

...And that wasn't one of them.

"No problems takin' him outta stasis: his vitals popped back up ta near–normal less than fifteen minutes after he defrosted."

...English. An accent from the Southeast portion of United States...

Gideon's dread threatened to turn into full–fledged panic.

There was only one explanation for the new voice.

They'd been captured.

The launch had failed.

...How bad was this?

Who'd caught them? What did they want––

"But he's still probably gonna be pretty disoriented when he wakes up. I don't doubt the fresh faces alone'll be pretty jarring..."

Gideon tried to gauge the direction of the voice; stopped himself from turning his head just in time; quickly closed his eyes.

The person talking seemed to be giving a report...which meant there was probably someone else in the room...and that there was a good chance at least one person was watching him.

Letting whoever was holding him know he'd woken up was probably not a good idea. Not yet. And this way, he might be able to gather some intel about his people––

"I just hope the rest of 'em are this easy," the voice sighed. "We've still got a lotta folks ta take outta stasis...and I don't think I'd forgive myself if we lost any of 'em."

...And there it was.

Whoever these strangers were, they had the rest of his family too. It looked like they wanted them _alive_ , but that could easily just mean they wanted healthy lab rats.

He had to get out of there. He had to try to save his people; to stop whatever––

"I'll start preppin' the next cryotube for reanimation in half an hour or so."

There had to be guards. People with guns standing close by, waiting to shoot him in the head if he so much as twitched wrong...

...But if there really was somebody watching him that closely, wouldn't they have noticed when he'd opened his eyes?

...He needed to take a risk. Before it was too late.

"Won't actually wake 'em up till after our chat with this guy..."

Gideon slowly shifted on what he hoped was a hospital bed; tested his still half–frayed senses for cuffs, and straps, and other precautions that these people might've taken to keep him from...

...Huh.

For some bizarre reason...as far as he could tell...He wasn't restrained.

...Escape still wouldn't be easy.

"But assuming everything goes well, the prep work'll help speed the process along."

He'd vowed that he would never kill again. Not after his family escaped from that "training" facility that pitted them against each other; forced them all to do things they wished they could forget.

Gideon had kept that vow for well over a decade...and he hoped he could keep it now.

...Just get a hostage. Someone to put between himself and a bullet.

If these people...whoever they were...cared about each other at all...then they wouldn't fire. He would have a chance.

The Augment let out a raspy, but audible, groan.

Someone gasped.

A strange metallic rattling accompanied the sound of quickly shifting cloth.

"...Hel...Hello?"

Gideon stayed still.

If this was going to work, they had to think he was barely conscious. That he was too out of it to be a threat. It was the only way to––

"I...think we might have ta adjust our timetable a bit." The voice sounded tense...even a little afraid. "But I'll know more in a few minutes. McCoy out."

More shifting cloth; the metallic rattling dragged past him; stopped; started back up.

...He'd have to move fast; take a hostage before the rest of them could react...

The rattling was getting closer again.

...But if he misjudged his timing, he could get––

A shadow passed over Gideon's face.

The Augment's eyes snapped open; saw a weird silver device being waived over his head.

No more time to think.

Gideon knocked the device away; bolted to his feet. He grabbed the startled man in front of him; spun him around; wrapped an arm around the guy's throat.

His new hostage yelped; grabbed at his arm; tried in vain to yank it away. The Augment kept his grip firm; sucked in a deep breath.

"Nobody move!" The pacifist's parched throat cracked as he gave the order. "Nobody..."

Gideon trailed off; blinked.

...There wasn't anybody else in the room. Just him...and the man he'd attacked.

Gideon spun in a circle; carefully dragging his hostage with him as he searched for more of his captors. There had to be more. It couldn't just be...

The rattling sound came from _below_ him this time. He searched for the source...and froze when he found it.

...A chain.

There was a long chain running across the floor; fastened to the base of another bed. It ended in a...shackle...around the left ankle of the man Gideon had by the throat.

...This wasn't a guard.

The Augment took a moment to look over his hostage.

...A scruffy beard; shaggy brown hair...kind of thin, but not quite gaunt. His skin looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in months.

No uniform, either. Just a black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and black sh...

Those...those wasn't shoes. Just...soft slippers. Nothing that'd help him in a fight, or if he tried to run...just barely enough material to keep his feet warm.

...A prisoner of war. Or a kidnapping victim. Or...

The hands clutching his arm slipped; his hostage started to droop.

"Shit," the Augment immediately loosened his grip; gently guided the man to the floor.

The prisoner curled up into a ball; his entire body shook as he gasped for air.

Gideon's gut clenched with guilt.

...He hadn't thought he'd been squeezing hard enough to _actually_ cut off the man's air supply...but then again, it'd been years since he'd used any of his combat training...and normal humans just didn't have the strength to loosen an Augment's grip. Even an Augment weakened by cryostasis.

"...Are..." Gideon's dry throat grated despite his best efforts to make it soft. "Are you alright?"

The prisoner didn't answer; just kept sucking in deep, shuddering breaths; letting them out.

...Whoever this poor bastard was, it was clear that he'd rather be anywhere other than...wherever they were...and Gideon's stunt had just made the man's life even more miserable.

"I...I really didn't mean to...I'm so, so sorry."

The Augment instinctively reached out; tried to give the man a comforting pat on the back.

The prisoner jumped at the slightest touch; scrambled a few feet away; spun to face him.

"S–Stay away!" The American half–growled; half begged.

"Take it easy," Gideon held his hands in front of him in a placating mannar. "I'm sorry about what happened, but you have to keep your voice down––"

"I don't have ta do jack shit!" The prisoner rasped. "The hell's wrong with you? Chokin' somebody half ta death 'fore they even have time ta say 'hello!'"

"I said I'm sorry," the Augment put a finger to his mouth. "I didn't know...I'm still not really sure what's going on...but if you don't calm down, you're going to––"

"Calm down?! Ya expect me ta just calm down after you––"

This wasn't getting them anywhere. The more the prisoner ranted, the more likely he was to draw the attention of whoever was _supposed_ to be guarding them.

Gideon sprang forward; used his legs to pin the American at the waste; clamped a hand over the man's mouth.

The prisoner let out a muffled scream; tried and failed to wrench the hand away...then went completely still.

...The shift from fight to freeze was so sudden, Gideon thought it might be a trick. He kept his hand in place; waited for the man to try suckerpunching him, or to pull out a knife, or...

The American's hands slowly fell to either side of his head; signaled his surrender.

...This entire situation was...really uncomfortable. The guy was just...staring up at him. Pleading with wide, hazel eyes. The prisoner's jaw quivered slightly; his unkempt beard itched under Gideon's hand.

The Augment fought the urge to withdraw. He needed to be sure the guy wouldn't keep shouting.

"It's alright," Gideon soothed. "I'm sorry about...all this. I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. Just...just please... _promise_ to keep your voice down, and I'll take my hand away. Do we have a deal?"

The prisoner stared at him for a moment...then he nodded rapidly.

...Hopefully that was progress.

The Augment slowly lifted his hand, ready to clamp it back down if the guy started screaming...but thankfully, he kept quiet.

"That's it," Gideon tried to smile. "Now, just stay calm, and let's start this over. Who are you? What were you trying to do to me?"

The man's brow furrowed...then his eyes filled with comprehension.

"I...I'm a doctor," the American whispered. "This...this is a medb...an infirmary. I wasn't gonna hurt you, if that's why...why you grabbed me. I was just gonna take your vitals, and do another check that none of your organs were damaged when we took you outta stasis. Don't want ya walkin' around with a ruptured gallbladder, or with stomach acid leakin' God–knows–where, or...you get the picture, right?"

...An infirmary...

Gideon risked a look around the room; tried to take in what he hadn't had time to notice before.

The room had two doors: Gideon could see a toilet through the one on his left, so he was pretty sure that wasn't the exit...but the one on the right was closed, and had a panel next to it on the wall. A far more promising option, even if it was probably locked.

There were shelves along the wall closest to him, full of supplies the Augment couldn't quite make out; a cluster of metal crates along the opposite wall. And there were three...well, they didn't look exactly like hospital beds to him––they were a lot...sleeker...than what he was accustomed to––but he could definitely believe that they were being _used_ as hospital beds...bolted to the floor. He'd apparently been lying on the one closest to the shelves, and this other doctor...

Gideon found his eyes trailing from a blood red blanket on the center bed, to the chain at its base...and finally, back to the man shackled to the other end of the chain.

...It did make sense that a doctor would be detained _inside_ an infirmary. A logical time–saver in case of an emergency...no matter how vile something like that was in practice.

"...Let's say I believe you," the Augment said cautiously. "Then who were you talking to?"

The captive blinked. "Talking to?"

"When I woke up, I heard you talking to someone," Gideon explained. "But we're the only two people in the room. Is there a phone in here? Or an intercom?"

"...Phone..." The American's brow furrowed again; then he mouthed an 'O.' "Well, there _is_ an intercom connected to the panel by the door...but that's not what you heard."

"Then what _did_ I hear?"

"I...um..." the man hesitated. "I was writing in my journal. Speakin's faster than typin,' and I...well...I like ta write when I'm nervous. Helps clear my head."

...Well...that would explain why he only heard one voice...if it were true. He hadn't thought speech recognition software was good enough to be accurate at the speed the man had been talking...but then again...he still wasn't sure how long he'd been in stasis.

"...Can I see the journal?"

The prisoner grimaced. "I'd...really rather ya didn't read it. It's...well...I don't really have a lotta privacy here, and that journal's...kinda the most private thing I've been allowed. I'd like ta keep it that way."

...Not really proving his case there...but if what the man said was true, it was...understandable...that he didn't want anybody else reading it.

"Alright...forget the journal." Gideon pointed to the device he'd knocked out of the man's hand. It had landed a couple feet away. "What is _that_ thing?"

"It's called a medical tricorder," the captive explained. "It checks pulse, and blood pressure, and a whole buncha other stuff...You can point it at me for a bit, if it makes ya feel better. I swear, it's harmless."

Still a little suspicious, Gideon slowly leaned over; picked up the device.

"There's a scanner that pops out of the side," the American kept his voice down. "Its readings are more precise when it's in two parts, but it'll still give you the basics when it's one unit. Just point it at me, and tap the display."

Gideon did so...and a list of vitals popped onto the screen.

Pulse. Blood pressure. Respiration rate. All just...there.

The device wasn't even touching the guy! How could it possibly take those readings?

Gideon pressed two fingers against the prisoner's left carotid. The man flinched; his already rapid heart rate spiked under the Augment's fingers...and on the screen.

...Somehow, the measurements were real. And astonishingly accurate.

He pulled his fingers away; tapped a button on the device in the shape of a kidney...and the screen displayed a clear image of the prisoner's internal organs.

"This is...amazing," the doctor breathed, fascinated, as he tapped another button, this time in the shape of a bone, and the screen switched to what could only be described as a...real–time x–ray...of the man pinned under him. "It should take an entire hospital wing to house everything this thing can do, and with only a _fraction_ of the clarity. Where did you get this?"

"It's...standard issue these days," the captive replied tensely. "You've...um...you've been in cryostasis a really long time."

"I...I can see that." Gideon passed his own arm in front of the device; watched the bones in his hand wiggle on the screen.

There was nothing like this in the 1990s. Nothing that even came close to it.

But what did that mean? Had the launch been successful after all? Had the normal humans caught up to them centuries later? Or had the launch had still failed, and nobody had bothered to take them out of stasis for a long, long time? Or...

...Maybe it was better to focus on the present. At least until he had more to go off of.

He moved the...tricorder...around, testing different angles; different distances. It responded seamlessly to his experiments, never failing to adjust to...

Gideon froze.

...There were hard calluses on the radius and ulna of the prisoner's left arm. From the amount of remodeling, he _wanted_ to say that the fractures were no less than eight months old...but if these people had handheld MRI's...

Another pass of the tricorder showed what looked like year–old fractures across...multiple ribs. The hard calluses were almost completely re–absorbed on most of them...but the evidence was still there, if someone knew what to look for.

"How'd you break your arm?" Gideon asked as innocuously as he could; noted the way the prisoner tensed.

"...It was an accident." The man wasn't very convincing. "Got caught in something...had ta have an amature set it, 'cause I was the only doctor 'round for...a long ways. He did a pretty good job, though."

"...I've seen worse." Gideon kept his suspicions to himself. "Any lingering pain? Muscle weakness?"

"Not a bit." The prisoner started to squirm. "Listen...um...is there any chance you could get off me now? I promise, I won't try anything...and this is gettin' really uncomfortable."

...Shit, he was still sitting on the guy, wasn't he?

"Right...sorry."

Gideon set the tricorder down; rushed to stand a little too quickly. He started to teeter; his vision went grey.

The chain rattled again as the American scrambled to his feet; hooked a steadying hand under the Augment's arm; rested another on his back.

"Take it easy," the captive cautioned. "Ya've only been outta deep freeze for an hour...you really shouldn't even've gotten outta bed yet, let alone––"

"I'll be fine," Gideon pulled away; immediately stumbled over his own feet.

The prisoner caught him again; the Augment let himself be guided back to the hospital bed; eased onto the pillow.

When Gideon was settled in, the American huffed; raised an eyebrow.

"You were saying?"

...The adrenaline rush he'd gotten during the fight was already working itself out of his system. It wasn't healthy to go from zero to sixty quite that fast...especially after being frozen for...he still wasn't sure how long.

"Guess I am a bit out of it," Gideon admitted; glanced appreciatively at his caretaker. "Thanks for the help...and again, I'm really sorry about...um...well––"

"Don't worry about it," the prisoner shook his head; sighed. "You're not my first patient ta try somethin' like that. I'm just glad ya didn't...that ya weren't actually tryin' ta...um...'Sides, I know how it feels ta wake up, and not know what the hell's goin' on. 'S'not fun."

Gideon grimaced.

Whatever this man had gone through, "not fun" was clearly a drastic understatement.

"...I don't think I caught your name?"

The American gave him a little smile; held out a hand. "It's McCoy. Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy...you can call me Leonard, if ya want."

...Without knowing who was holding them, or how much time had passed since he went into stasis, telling this man his real name probably wasn't a good move.

Safer to lie, and clear things up later if he had to.

Gideon carefully clasped the offered hand; shook it. "Anthony Lewis. I go by Tony. It's nice to meet you, Leonard."

The American tensed again; his brow crooked with...concern. "...Your throat sounds pretty dry. Would ya like some water? I'm sure ya've gotta be thirsty."

...The Augment really didn't want to let this guy out of his sight...but his throat was screaming at him to say yes.

"I'd love some water. Thank you."

"Great, I'll just…"

Leonard disappeared into the bathroom; the sound of running water filled the infirmary.

Gideon took the moment alone to check himself over.

He was wearing two hospital gowns––clearly put on him by his new doctor...companion, because he doubted anybody else would have thought to keep his backside from being left exposed to the elements. The material was...surprisingly comfortable...and much less revealing than the temperature–regulating mesh the Augments had been forced to put on when they went into cryostasis...but he hoped he could get ahold of some real clothes soon.

Physically, nothing felt particularly sore––just...stiff. Like one would expect after being frozen solid for...well...just after being frozen solid.

Before going into stasis, he'd been a worried about microfractures forming in soft tissues and bones, and how easy they could have miscalculated the required temperatures to create an instant, glossy-freeze, and…

The Augment took a deep breath; pressed two fingers into the trumpet tattoo on his left wrist; felt for his pulse. It thrummed underneath the lines of black ink on his dark brown skin, steady as always.

...He'd really made it out of stasis. Alive.

Whatever came next, whoever had taken his people this time...he'd figure it out. _They_ would figure it––

"Hope this is enough."

Leonard came back into view, holding a cup. His chain noisily clinked behind him as he crossed back to Gideon's bed, but the prisoner didn't even seem to notice.

"I'd drink slowly, if I were you," Leonard adjusted Gideon's hospital bed so that he was sitting relatively upright; handed him the cup. "I wasn't jokin' about the stomach acid thing...'Sides, from what I've heard, cryogenics can make your guts pretty sensitive for a couple days. With your abilities, I'm not sure what timeframe we're really lookin' at...but better safe than sorry, right?"

Gideon froze.

...Abilities.

He...he knew. This man knew what he was.

...Then again...how could he not?

That tricorder could measure all sorts of things. Of _course_ it could pick up on a heightened metabolism, and an enhanced healing ability, and...

Leonard knowing he was an Augment explained why he hadn't even tried to fight back...but it wasn't the end of the world.

...Hopefully.

Gideon still didn't have a good picture of what was going on. They could be in a fallout bunker for all he knew; these people could've decided to wake up his people as some last–ditch effort to keep Humanity alive...

Speculation wasn't going to help him. He needed to get his new...friend...comfortable enough to start talking.

"That's...good advice," the Augment made himself smile; took a sip of water; gave a sigh of relief. "This is just what I needed. Thank you, Leonard."

"You're...um...you're welcome," the prisoner shifted nervously. "T...Tony...Do ya mind if I finish my scans? I really need ta make sure you're doin' okay...I don't even need ta touch you, if it'd make you uncomfortable."

...He was probably under orders to run those scans. Refusing could put them both in danger.

"That's fine, Leonard," Gideon consented. "Can I keep drinking the water?"

"Absolutely," the doctor nodded. "Won't hurt a thing. I'll just...um...one sec."

Leonard turned; crouched to pick up the tricorder. The angle pulled the collar of the man's shirt down; Gideon sucked in a breath.

"...Leonard?"

"Yeah?" The prisoner turned back to him, tricorder in hand.

"...Have the people here been hurting you?"

Leonard went rigid; fear flashed through the man's eyes.

"...What makes you say that?"

"You...um..." There wasn't a delicate way to put this. "You have bruises on the back of your neck."

The captive doctor clenched his jaw; let out a feeble snort. "Well...you did kinda choke me out a few minutes ago. I'm not surprised––"

"I didn't do that," Gideon shook his head. "I had you pinned in the crook of my elbow, but what I just saw...those were fingerprints. I've seen too many bruises like that to mistake them for anything else."

The captive opened his mouth, clearly preparing to deny it...but then, he just grimaced; slumped; sighed.

"I...I thought I got all of 'em."

"So there were more." It wasn't a question. "Who did that to you? One of the guards?"

Leonard absently rubbed his neck; then popped a small cylinder from the tricorder; started waving it around Gideon's head.

"...He didn't want to," the prisoner muttered as he worked. "It was just...he thought he didn't have a choice. 'S'not gonna happen again."

...And didn't _that_ sound familiar.

"...Alright." Gideon took another sip of water. "...And who is 'He?' A guard? Another prisoner? Or somebody higher up on the food chain?"

"He...um..." Leonard stopped for a second; then kept scanning. "He told me not ta tell you who he is, if you woke up 'fore he got back. He wants ta talk to you first. Try to explain some things..."

...Like how 'He' could justify strangling a prisoner, no doubt.

...Pushing Leonard for more information about their captor wouldn't help anything. The man was clearly terrified...and following specific instructions.

Besides, there were other things they could talk about. Things that were just as important.

"Can you at least tell me what year it is?" Gideon asked.

Leonard glanced at him nervously. "Ya sure you're ready for that?"

"I'll find out eventually," the Augment shrugged. "Might as well not put it off."

"...Alright," Leonard nodded; pressed a button on the side of the tricorder. "It's...uh...well, I _think_ the exact date is June 7th, 2261. My sense of time's all off...but that's what this thing says...so it's probably right. I know the year's right, at least."

Gideon stared.

...2261...

That was...

Part of him had never thought the cryostasis chambers would last that long. Good on Basil for creating such a durable design...

...But that also meant Gideon knew absolutely nothing about the current socio-political landscape. Clearly, Humanity had survived its nuclear winter...and still hadn't gotten over some of its crueler instincts...but beyond that, he couldn't even guess at the kind of society he'd just been revived into.

"...And how long have you been here?"

"Um...hang on..." Leonard looked at the ceiling; let out a little huff. "Well, if the tricorder's right about the date, then it'll be...Christ...sixty days _exactly_...in about two hours. He brought me here a little after lunch."

...Sixty days...

So either those bones had been broken long before the American had been imprisoned...or they really did have tech capable of healing injuries that fast.

Gideon took another sip of water. "When you say you were 'brought' here...what does that mean? Is there some kind of caste system in place? Can the government just take people from their homes and...put them to work like this? Or are you some kind of political prisoner, or––"

"That's probably the best way ta describe it," Leonard stopped him; went back to his scans. "The...um...political prisoner one, not the...caste system. The Federation...the society I grew up in...banned castes in their founding charter, and in theory, everybody's supposed ta be treated as equals. People are _only_ supposed ta be judged based on their actions; not where they come from."

...There was a little...frustration...in the Southerner's voice...but not the kind of frustration Gideon had been worried about.

"So diversity is considered a strength in this...Federation?"

"Absolutely," the prisoner sighed. "But not everybody acts like it is. With a society this big there's always a bit of culture clash goin' on...Most the time it's just misunderstandings that get cleared when people start ta listen to each other more...but not all the time. I thought we were at least movin' in the right direction. I thought we were really movin' past petty crap...till _this_ whole mess started, and I got yanked off my ship by K...uh...by the guy that brought me here."

...Ship?

Gideon frowned. He'd pegged this guy as a civilian...but he'd been wrong before.

"So...this ship you were on...was it a military vessel?"

"Military?" Leonard huffed; shook his head. "Hell no. I'm no soldier. I'm just...well, technically, I guess I've got the rank of a Lieutenant Commander, but that's not a _military_ rank, and...um...when you're a doctor, that's not really the part anybody cares about, so...That doesn't make much sense to you, does it?"

"You might want to back up a few steps."

"...Okay, then first, I feel like I should remind you that you've been asleep a really long time, and you've already seen some real small examples of our technological advancements. And our ships have come a long way from your time, too..."

...The Augment had a pretty good idea where this was going. There had been plans to colonize the moon––even Mars––in his time. Sure, they hadn't really _gotten_ anywhere...but if these people had developed spacecrafts more advanced than the Botany Bay...

"You're an astronaut, aren't you?"

Leonard snorted. "God, that's an antique term...but I guess from your perspective, it's the closest thing that fits. I am...I was...the Chief Medical Officer on a starship called the Enterprise. It flies for an organization called Starfleet. It's supposed ta be the exploratory and humanitarian arm of the Federation, seekin' out new life; new civilizations, and all that crap."

"...Huh."

That fit a bit better. It sounded more like a futuristic United Nations than a military orga...

...Wait.

...New life; new civilizations...

Did...did that mean...

"Leonard...are you telling me that _aliens exist_?"

The captive raised an eyebrow. "How many bombshells do you wanna have before lunch?"

"Are you kidding me?!" Gideon could barely stop himself from shouting in excitement. "That's amazing! A lot of us thought there _might_ be intelligent life somewhere out there, but to actually find it? That's...that's just...what are they like?"

"'S'not a monolith," as he talked, Leonard put the smaller part of the tricorder back into its slot; put the device on the center bookshelf; came back to Gideon's side. "The Vulcans like ta say...well, a lot of things...but they like ta talk about the universe havin' 'infinite diversity in infinite combinations.' Some aliens are friendly; some are bloodthirsty; some just wanna be left alone. And that varies a lot _within_ species, too, but the ones we...the species that make up the Federation are mostly on the friendly side. 'S kinda the point. Banding together against the dictators of the universe, and all that...'least that's what it's supposed ta be."

"But how could you possibly have traveled far enough to meet them?" The Augment wondered, absolutely astonished. "It should take decades, if not _centuries_ to travel between solar systems, even at the speed of light."

"It's a tech called warp drive," the astronaut explained. "The engines of our starhips create a little bubble in spacetime that lets us go faster than the speed 'a light. Don't ask me ta explain the science any more than that: I'm a doctor, not an engin…"

Leonard trailed off; a...forlorn...expression fell over his face.

Gideon frowned. "Everything alright?"

"Nothin,'" the prisoner shrugged. "It's...it's nothin.'"

...Oh.

"It's alright, Leonard," the Augment smiled reassuringly. "I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. If you're not supposed to talk about this––"

"'S'not that," Leonard shook his head. "This...this is all just background info ta...He'll actually probably be glad I caught you up ta speed on some of this stuff."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I…" The American sighed. "I was just gettin' back inta old habits, is all. Makin' the Federation sound like some kinda Utopia, even though I _know_ it's…it's actually pretty damn evil. Full of corrupt _psychopaths_ that feign inclusiveness and morality ta keep a firm grip on power."

"...I see." That sounded...extremely parroted. "...Leonard, did you always think the Federation was evil, or did the people holding us here tell you––"

"Holdin' _me_ ," the prisoner corrected. "Don't know if you noticed, but only one of us has a chain 'round our ankle. Once you understand what's goin' on here, you're gonna have the run of this place."

...Sure.

Gideon set down the cup; focused completely on Leonard. "You didn't answer my question. Before...whoever these people are...took you from your ship, what did you think of the Federation?"

The American grimaced. "That...doesn't matter. I...I was wrong. The Federation's showed its true colors a dozen times over in the last two months. If I could avoid seein' a Starfleet uniform for the rest of my life, I'd count myself a lucky man."

...A lucky man?

"Leonard...you're chained to a bed."

"'S'not so bad," the prisoner shrugged defensively. "I'm...not always on it. Just when K...when he needs ta leave me alone for chunks 'a time. And if I stayed here, I'd still get ta be a doctor. I'd still get ta help people...maybe even more than if...Hell, the only reason I still wanna go home at all is ta be with Joanna."

"Joanna?"

"My daughter," Leonard smiled sadly. "She turned twelve a month ago. Once the colony's all set up, he's gonna let me go, and I'm gonna head straight for her. The planet she lives on with my sister an' brother-in-law's pretty nice; I already have a little house there for visits, so I won't get under their feet at all. I'll start up a practice, and––"

"Wait wait wait," Gideon had to interrupt. "You family seems great, but I need you to go back: what _colony_?"

The prisoner tensed. "...Did I say colony?"

"You did," the Augment nodded. "Let me guess: it's something 'He' wants to explain."

"...Not _entirely_ ," Leonard shuffled. "But I probably shouldn't go inta too much detail."

"I'd appreciate anything you can tell me."

"...Alright," the prisoner sighed; leaned on the side of the hospital bed. "So, from what I _understand_ , a few years ago a Starfleet admiral found your ship drfitin' in a region we'd barely begun ta explore. You were all in really old cryostasis chambers, but instead of just wakin' y'all up, they put you in newer, portable pods."

Gideon frowned. "Why'd they do that?"

Leonard huffed. "You're askin' the wrong guy. The long-term scheme never made much sense ta me, and honestly, I sometimes wonder what woulda happened if they'd just defrosted y'all right away, 'stead of just...um..."

"...Just what?"

The captive cringed.

"...I'm beggin' outta that one."

...Ah.

"...Fair enough."

"Long story cut very... _very_ short," Leonard continued. "The guy who had me wake you up found out about your people a couple years back, and he's been workin' ta get y'all outta cryostasis ever since. And a couple days ago, the Federation finally agreed to let him start a colony. They dropped off the first nineteen cryotubes yesterday afternoon, and the rest of your crew should be here in the next couple weeks."

...This story made absolutely no sense.

So this...Federation...was putting their fate in the hands of...activists?

...No.

Not activists.

Terrorists.

Kidnapping a doctor and keeping him chained to a bed was...beyond extreme.

Who in their right mind would take a group of refugees, hold them for an arbitrary period of time; then hand them off to a group of terrorists so they could colonize some random...

Random _what_ , exactly?

"So...this colony...Is it on a planet, like the one your daughter lives on? Or is it something else?"

"It's a moon, actually," Leonard smiled. "A pretty nice one. We landed a couple days back, and have been workin' on some final tests ta make sure it's able ta sustain Human life. It's got pretty good weather; good soil; lots of oxygen; no biting insects––as far as we can tell––and so far, it's groundwater coming back completely clear of contaminants and biohazards. If I was less paranoid, I'd say we could drink it right from the well, but K...the guy that's organizing the colony...is installing a filtration system as we speak. Just ta be safe."

Gideon started to feel nauseous again.

This…this wasn't right.

All of this––the future of his _entire civilization_ ––had been decided before a _single_ Augment had been taken out of stasis!

Who was making these decisions for them? Who had hijacked their lives?

They'd wanted to start a colony; to finally have lives free of violence; free of subjugation...

And the Augment could already tell...this wasn't it.

"Alright," Gideon swung his legs over the side of the bed. "It's time to go."

Leonard tensed; took a step back. "What...What do you mean, _'go_?'"

"I want to talk to someone from this Federation," the Augment stood; stretched. "If there's going to be a colony, then its inhabitants should get a say in how it's formed. And if they really don't intend on giving us a say in this, then it's time to make our escape."

" _Escape_?" The prisoner practically squeaked. "Nonono, you can't––"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you here." Gideon knelt by Leonard' feet; caught a length of the captive's chain between his hands before the man could pull it away. "Wanna see a neat trick?"

"Ya can't just snap that chain in half with your––"

"You know what I am," the Augment interrupted. "You've already given that much away. Repeatedly. So please, just hold still, and I'll get you out of this mess."

Leonard sighed; shook his head...but didn't argue.

Gideon tightened his grip on the chain; yanked as hard as he could.

The links went taut; the chain practically vibrated from the force of the pull.

...But it...didn't break.

"...The hell?"

...It _had_ been a long time since he'd had to do something like this. Maybe he didn't have the angle right...

Gideon shifted his grip; yanked again.

...Nothing.

The links didn't even _warp_.

It didn't make sense. How––

"Chain's made of an alloy called duranium," Leonard answered his unasked question. "It was developed ta plate the hulls of ships traveling faster than the speed of light. It's not gonna break."

...Why the hell would someone make a chain out of...

...To hold an Augment.

That chain was meant for an _Augment_.

Gideon's urge to escape became even stronger.

...But no matter how much he wanted to...he couldn't take Leonard with him. He'd have to leave they guy in this...place...until...

Who was he kidding? He didn't have a clue _how_ he was going to fix this...just that he _had_ to.

...But hopefully he could at least keep Leonard from taking the blame for what he was going to do.

"Alright...Plan B," the Augment rose; turned to his companion. "Lie on the ground. Feet together; hands on your head."

The prisoner tensed. "...Why?"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Gideon assured him. "I just...If you can't come with me, then I don't want it to look like you let me escape. It's safer this way."

"This _escape_ thing's not gonna work," Leonard insisted; took a couple more steps back. "You can barely walk a straight line, and even if you could––"

"I'll be fine," the Augment waived his hand dismissively; hoped it was true. "I'm feeling...better. Are there any ropes around here? Strips of cloth?"

...The prisoner didn't answer.

"I get it, Leonard," Gideon sighed. "You're scared. You don't know if I'll actually just tie you up and leave...or if this is some kind of ruse to...But if I'm gone when whoever's in charge of this place comes back, and you're just standing here...can you see how bad that'll be for you?"

"I might be a little worried if I thought you were actually goin' somewhere," Leonard replied. "But this room's real secured right now. You won't even be able ta––"

"How many?"

The prisoner blinked. "What?"

"How many guards are outside that door?" He could take them...if he had to.

His people had come too far; sacrificed too much to end up under the thumb of some new group of psychopaths. He _had_ to escape so he could save his friends.

Still, Leonard didn't respond.

...Great.

"I'm assuming you've got sedatives of some kind in this infirmary," Gideon turned to the shelves near his hospital bed; made his way over to them. "I'll need something fast–acting; especially if there's more than one guard standing watch––"

"But that's the thing." The American's chain clinked a little. "It's not a matter of how many guards there are: there _aren't_ any guards. You're the first person we've woken up, so right now it's really just you, me, and K...and him. But last night, he put in some new––"

"Wait wait wait," Gideon spun around; held up a hand. "Let's stop there: you're telling me that all...this...is _really_ being orchestrated by _one_ man? You're not just hyperfocused on him because he scares you: it's _really_ _just_ _one_ _guy_?"

"Um...yeah," Leonard admitted. "But he's...he's just tryin' ta help. It's taken him a long time––"

"And who does this _asshole_ think he is?" The Augment fumed. "What gives him the right to rip you away from your life, or to set up a colony with _my people_? Why does he get _any_ say in what we do?"

"He…" Leonard stopped himself; grimaced. "He really wants ta explain that himself. But I can _promise_ that he's not gonna hurt you. He wants you an' the rest of the Augments to be free."

...Sure.

"Anyone who would chain someone to a bed has no idea what freedom means." Gideon turned back to the shelves. "I'm not waiting around for his explanation."

He wasn't sure what half the devices on the shelves were, but it didn't take long to find a stash of bandages.

"Ya don't really have much of a choice," Leonard said. "You can't leave––"

"Is there a camera watching the door?" Gideon tore off a couple strips of bandage; turned back to the captive.

Leonard looked at the bandages; gulped. "Not...not that I know of, but––"

"Then I'm taking the risk." He started over towards the prisoner. "Please hold out your hands. This won't take long to––"

"It's a waste of time," Leonard took a few more hurried steps back; bumped up against the middle hospital bed; started trying to climb up and over it. "Listen...T...Tony...I can't tell ya who he is, but I promise you: you are _not_ in danger here. You––"

Gideon grabbed the man's arm before he could clear the bed; wrestled it behind his back; pinned him down.

Leonard shrieked.

Gideon shoved a wadded up bandage into Leonard's mouth.

He caught the man's free hand before he could pull the gag away; tied Leonard's arms behind him with another strip of bandage. It only took a couple seconds more to secure the man's feet; then he tied another bandage around Leonard's mouth so he couldn't spit out the gag.

The Augment took a step back; studied his work. The knots seemed to be holding, but weren't tight enough to cut off Leonard's circulation. Leaving him on the bed was a bit of a risk: if the man struggled too much, he could fall off...but making him lie on the hard, metal floor for who–knew–how–long just seemed...mean.

And the poor guy was freaking out enough already. His chest was heaving with panicked breaths; his hazel eyes were wide with a mix of indignation and fear.

...Gideon felt guilty for scaring him...but making it clear Leonard hadn't helped him escape was the only way to keep him even remotely safe from...whoever was holding them...if something went wrong.

"...Can you breathe okay?"

The captive blinked; his eyes narrowed...but then he took a deep, unsteady breath through his nose; let it out; nodded.

"Good…" Gideon searched for a way to lighten the mood. "...At least you won't have to lie about how this happened."

...Leonard flipped him off.

It took Gideon off guard; he couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, I don't blame you."

He crouched down to the captive's eye level; put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Leonard flinched, and Gideon cringed at his mistake; pulled his hand away.

"It's going to be alright," the Augment promised. "I'll come back for you as soon as I can."

Leonard let out a muffled, frustrated groan; flopped his head down onto the mattress.

...Probably the best response he could hope for.

Gideon turned to the exit.

The lock might take awhile to sort out, and there was no telling what would _actually_ be on the other side...but he'd escaped maximum security cells before. He would do it again; maybe even get the drop on their captor before the guy even realized Gideon was missing. That psychopath would have the code for Leonard's shackle...and know where the rest of the Augments were being held.

He hurried for the door.

If what Leonard had told him was true, then some of Gideon's people were somewhere nearby. Maybe he could find them first, and––

Gideon bounced face–first off an invisible wall.

He flew backwards; landed in an undignified heap; sat up with a groan.

...What the hell had just happened?

The Augment reached a hand out to the seemingly empty space in front of him, and his fingers connected with a solid wall of static that made the hairs on his arm stand on end.

Gideon jerked his hand away; staggered to his feet; turned back to Leonard.

"That...that was what you were trying to warn me about, wasn't it?"

The captive nodded.

"...And that's the only exit?"

Leonard raised an eyebrow; nodded again.

"Are you sure?"

...How could a man put that much sarcasm into the shake of his head?

Gideon crossed back to the prisoner; took the gag out of the man's mouth.

"What the hell is that thing?"

"'S called a force field," Leonard replied. "Basically an invisible wall of energy. This type'll knock you on your ass if ya run into it, but it can't _really_ hurt ya unless you're dumb enough ta keep touching it. Some of the stronger ones though...Are ya feelin' alright?"

"I...think so," Gideon grimaced. "Little bit of a headache...but otherwise I'm fine."

"Mind untyin' me now? This ain't the most comfortable position."

"Right...sorry."

The Augment sat on the side of the hospital bed; fumbled with the knots by Leonard's ankles. He hadn't exactly made them easy to untie...and the guy kept flinching.

"...This is awkward," Gideon muttered as the knot finally unraveled.

"'S fine. I've dealt with worse."

"...That's not reassuring."

Thankfully, the wrists went a bit faster.

As soon as he was able, Leonard slowly sat up; stretched his hands.

"Look, I get the urge ta run, but next time ya wanna try somethin' like that, could ya at least let me finish my sentence first? Watchin' people smack inta force fields ain't my idea of a good––"

Something hissed.

Leonard went stiff.

"You're finally awake!" A cheery voice said from behind him.

The Augment spun to face the voice; put himself a little bit in front of his companion; tried to take in as much about the man who'd just entered the room as he could.

A soldier if he'd ever seen one...even if he was _pretty_ sure the flat device in the man's hand wasn't a weapon...and the clothes he wore looked nothing like a uniform. The stance was there; from the arrow–straight posture beneath his red button–up, to the grounded, booted feet of a man who had been trained to fight and kill.

...And even if Gideon didn't already have a pretty good guess as to who this guy was, the way Leonard had tensed at his entrance made it perfectly clear.

Their captor grinned at him. "It is good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

Gideon didn't answer.

...Everything about this was wrong.

The man was far too friendly. It reminded him of Elroy, before he'd...

Hopefully that wasn't what this was.

...And his accent...it was British...but not _quite_ British. Like he was either trying and failing to change it, or trying to mask a different accent, or...

...Whatever it was, there was definitely something _off_ there.

"Are you alright, Gideon?" The newcomer frowned. "You look a bit...grey."

Gideon stiffened; shot a glance at Leonard.

The prisoner gave him a nervous smile; an apologetic shrug.

...They knew his name. His _real_ name. They'd known it all along.

He could understand them figuring out that he was an Augment, but _how_ did they know...

"Who are you?" Gideon finally demanded. "What do you want with me?"

...Was that...pain...that flashed through the soldier's eyes?

The Brit looked past him; to the American. "How is he, McCoy?"

"He's doin' pretty good so far," Leonard replied. "Just had a little incident with the force field, though. He'll be fine, but given that he also just got outta deep freeze, I recommend bed rest for––"

"Thank you, doctor," the Brit looked back at Gideon; smiled. "I know this all must be quite confusing to you. But before I try to explain everything that has happened, I need you to know that I mean you no harm. You are safe here."

"Safe?" Gideon scowled. "I'm trapped in a room with a guy who's chained to a bed. I never told you my name, and yet not only do you know it, but you're acting like were old friends. What part of this scenario is supposed to scream 'safe' to me?"

"That chain is as much for his own protection as it is to keep him confined," their captor insisted. "McCoy has neither the strength nor skill to fight off an attack...but when he is on that chain, he has a measure of protection. _No one,_ not even an Augment, can take him anywhere he does not want to go, and because of the force field I installed last night, no one can come more than a foot into this room without my consent. Being chained to a bed is a much better fate than being dragged off into the night, wouldn't you agree?"

...This guy expected him to believe that twisted logic?

"If you're saying you did all this for his _protection_ ," Gideon growled. "Then how do you justify _strangling_ him?"

The Brit went rigid; he drew in a deep...seething breath.

" _Doctor_?"

"I–I didn't say..." Leonard grimaced. "...Apparently I missed a couple bruises on the back of my neck. They didn't hurt, and I couldn't see well enough ta––"

"Come here; let me see."

The prisoner crossed obediently to their captor; paused a couple feet from the door; turned his back on their captor; tilted his head forward.

The soldier's brow furrowed...then pinched with...regret?

"...Damn," their captor sighed. "It is alright, McCoy: those would be quite difficult for you to see. If anything, _I_ should have noticed them well before...Go fetch a dermal regenerator, and give it to Doctor Hawkins."

Leonard nodded; headed for the bookshelves.

"A good catch," the Brit nodded to him. "I do not want anyone to think harming our...guest...will be permitted."

"And how did those bruises get there to begin with?" Gideon demanded.

Their captor grimaced. "There was an...incident. An atrocity was committed by our enemies. In a moment of...weakness...I channeled my fury in the wrong direction."

"Meaning you nearly _murdered_ a defenseless man," Gideon summarized, barely able to keep his voice level. "And you want me to trust you?"

"I'm fine," Leonard muttered as he rattled back over; held out a small cylindrical device. "Please, just drop it."

Gideon opened his mouth to protest...then closed it.

...At this point, getting upset was just going to antagonize their captor...and he had a feeling _he_ wouldn't be the one paying for it.

Instead, he looked at the device in his companion's outstretched hand; frowned. "...What am I supposed to do with that?"

"It's a dermal regenerator," Leonard explained. "Heals burises and shallow cuts in the blink of an eye. I've got it set for bruises right now, so all ya've gotta do's hold the transparent end an inch or so from my neck, and press the button on the side."

...So they really _did_ have that kind of tech.

Gideon accepted the device. "...Do you need any painkillers?"

"Nope," Leonard sat on the hospital bed, facing away from Gideon; lowered his head to expose the bruises. "It should barely even tickle...I'm ready when you are."

...Probably best to just get...whatever this was...over with.

He moved the...dermal regenerator...into position like his companion had described; pressed the button.

A small circle of light flicked on...and when he shined over the bruises...they actually started to fade.

"Sorry 'bout the name thing," Leonard said quietly. "Didn't wanna freak you out…"

Gideon huffed; moved on to the next bruise. "I'd say that ship's sailed, Leonard."

"Yeah...I guess so...Do ya mind if I call you Gideon? Or is Doctor Hawkins better?"

"...Gideon's fine."

It didn't take long at all for the bruises to vanish completely––a feat that was as astounding...as it was terrifying.

Who knew how many bruises Leonard had healed on his own with this thing? And those bones... _did_ they have a tool like this for bones? Had their captor––

"There cannot be that many bruises left," the soldier huffed; tapped the screen of the flat device in his hand.

...There was a wall of static...then the Brit walked across the spot where the forcefield had been moments ago; headed towards them.

"Let me see if you're doing that right."

...This could be his only chance. He needed to make sure...

Their captor was only feet away now.

Gideon shoved Leonard out of the way, and lunged at the soldier.

Leonard yelped in surprise and fear as the Augment started to wrestle with their captor; landed a knee to the stomach; pulled back for a swing strong enough to––

The soldier tripped him; sent him hurtling towards the floor.

...The next thing Gideon knew, he was on his back, hands pinned above his head; an arm at his throat.

...How the _hell––_

"Don't hurt him!" Leonard had plastered himself against the back wall, clearly wanting to stay as far away from the fight as he could. "Please, he's just confused! He doesn't understand––"

"I am not going to kill him, McCoy," their captor snapped; looked down at Gideon with a michevious smirk. "But I hope this illustrates my point?"

"And what point would _that_ be?" Gideon gritted out.

" _Think_ , Doctor Hawkins. I know you're still lightheaded from stasis, but you need to start putting two and two together."

...What point was he talking about?

Had...had this been a trap? Was he trying to show off how good a fighter he was? How strong...

How _was_ this guy so strong? Sure, Gideon wasn't feeling his best, but he'd been able to pin Leonard in a heartbeat! This guy shouldn't've stood a chance!

...But here he was. Pinned to the floor, with a psychopath's arm at his throat; without the strength to pry it away...

...And just like that that, it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

"You...you're an Augment!"

"Finally, you catch on!" His captor grinned down at him. "And all it took was making you break your ridiculous vows of pacifism. I must say, you really let your training go: I used to be terrified of having you as a sparring partner!"

...This didn't make any sense. How...how did he...

"Stop," Gideon seethed. "I don't care if you're...I still don't know you! Stop _pretending––_ "

"But you _do_ know me, Gideon," the soldier's eerie blue eyes bored into him. "That's what I have been trying to explain! We grew up together; we even saved each other's lives on several occasions! Our philosophies were...vastly different...but we both had the same goal at heart: the freedom of our people. A place we could live in peace...and I have done it, Gideon. I have outwitted and outmaneuvered all of our enemies, and brought us to a new home! Just like I promised I would...when you and the others declared me Khan."

Gideon stared.

...What had he just...

"You're lying," Gideon accused. "You're _not Khan_. You don't look or sound a thing like him, so don't expect me to fall for––"

"I do not expect you to _fall_ for anything," the impostor insisted. "All I ask is that you keep an open mind."

Gideon snorted. "An open mind? You open with a flat out _lie_ , and want me to keep an _open mind_?"

"Ask me anything. Anything at all that Khan Noonien Singh would know."

"I'm not playing your games."

"A DNA test then. McCoy can show you how to use the equipment––"

"And what would I compare the DNA to?" Gideon laughed dryly. "What, do you think I have Khan Noonien Singh's DNA sequence memorized?"

"You _do_ have it memorized, Gideon!" The impostor laughed. "You have an eidetic memory. Easily the best the universe has ever seen. You know the DNA sequence of every Augment ever born!"

Gideon stared.

...How...how did he know...

"Did that catch you off guard?" Their captor raised an eyebrow. "Is your curiosity piqued enough to stop you from trying to _fight_ your way out of here?"

...If he played along, maybe he could trip up this...impostor.

"I think we've determined that I'm not really in fighting shape," Gideon glared. "Consider me curious to see where this goes."

The impostor smirked; pulled away.

"Doctor McCoy, if you would be so kind as to retrieve a hypo of Numanol, and the melagraft? We need to move this along."

Relief washed over Leonard's face. "I'm on it."

The prisoner rattled away.

"I know you have had a great deal of information thrown at you the past few minutes," the impostor held out a hand; helped Gideon to his feet. "If you would rather rest for a few minutes, this next part can wait."

...Trap him. Find things Khan could do that this man couldn't.

"I don't know what you're planning to do," Gideon said in Arabic. "But if you think I'm taking my eyes off you, you're out of your mind."

The strange Augment...grinned.

"Clever, Gideon," the man...switched to Arabic. "A simple test, to be sure, but one which would provide ample traps for an impostor. It is good to know you remain as _cunning_ as ever."

...Well...that didn't go like he'd hoped.

"Um...Khan?" Leonard was already back; holding a small tray of odd tools. "I...I think the universal translator just cut out. I can't understand––"

"There is nothing wrong with the universal translator, McCoy," the man claiming to be Khan replied in English. "I simply never installed one in this room, and I never will. There would be no point. My people are all multilingual. We could only accomplish our missions if we were fluent in a number of languages...in fact, we even had a running game going to see who could learn the most. I believe Aiko was in the lead before we left Earth...am I correct, Gideon?"

...Yeah...he was.

"...She's fluent in fifty eight languages, and conversational in twenty three more."

" _Sixty_ eight and _forty_ three," the strange Augment corrected. "And she is quite proud of that statistic. She blew Jason's record out of the water a year before we left Earth. I intend to keep this game going on our new home, so the only place on this moon where the Federation's universal translator technologies will be utilized will be the bridge. Best not to mistranslate our Klingon hosts, after all."

...What the hell was a Kling––

"Wait," Leonard sounded worried. "If there's not gonna be a translator...then do...um...do all of the Augments speak English? 'Cause I...I'm conversational in _Vulcan_ , but that doesn't really help in this sit––"

"Yes, McCoy," the man claiming to be Khan rolled his eyes. "English was one of the first languages we _all_ learned at the training facility. Right alongside Punjabi, Hindi, and Chinese. If my people _want_ to converse with you, they will have no trouble doing so."

...A bit rude...but once again...somehow accurate.

"I...um..." Leonard shuffled; sighed. "I guess that works."

"It will," the impostor agreed. "Is the melagraft ready?"

"Yeah," the prisoner nodded. "Just have a seat, and I'll get started."

Their captor raised an eyebrow at Gideon. "Would you mind sitting on the biobed by the bookshelves while he works? I don't want McCoy to be distracted."

...He was going to put Leonard between them; use him as a human shield...

...Once again...unfortunately not unheard of for Khan...so it didn't tell him much.

"...Fine," Gideon crossed to the...apparently somebody'd decided to change the name of a hospital bed to a _biobed_...and sat facing them.

The impostor smiled; sat at the foot of the middle...biobed...and gestured for Leonard to come over with the tray. The captive complied; set the tray next to their captor; picked up a small cylinder; squinted at some numbers on its side.

"Area 'round your eye's gonna get pretty numb," the doctor pressed the cylinder into the skin next to the impostor's left eye; picked up a small disk. "This'll keep your eye open. It also lets out a little mist that's a mix of an eyedrop and a mild paralytic, so your pupil doesn't spasm while I'm working...All you'll have ta do is keep your head still."

"I will do my best, doctor. Proceed."

"Alright, here goes nothin.'"

Leonard set the disk over the impostor's left eye. Their captor...flinched...then took a deep breath; went completely still.

The captive doctor picked up another device from the tray. This one came to a point of fiberglass-like filaments at one end; had an eyepiece on the other; buttons along the side. Leonard put the eyepiece up to his right eye; adjusted the buttons; set the filaments against the impostor's immobilized eye.

They sat in silence for a few minutes...until Gideon's curiosity got the better of him.

"...What are you having him do?"

"He is grafting new, permanent layers of melanin into my eye," the impostor said as if that was the most boring thing in the world. "Shortly after my revival, my identity was stolen from me; nearly every aspect of my visage was drastically altered into...well...into what you see now. And although a complete reconstruction of my features would be nearly impossible, after today, my eyes will be my own once again."

...So that's how he thought he could claim to be Khan? Extreme plastic surgery? Did he really think anyone would believe...

...Then again...if these people really had faster–than–light travel; if they could fit half a hospital in the palm of their hand; if they could heal bruises in a matter of seconds...why couldn't they change someone's entire appearance just as easily?

It...it was possible...but improbable.

...But that pretty much summed up this whole situation, didn't it?

Gideon stared at the stranger's profile; tried to find signs of his old compatriot.

...Physically, he was the same height...and his hair was jet black like Khan's had been...but Khan would have _never_ cut it like that.

"Khan came from a Sikh family," Gideon said in Punjabi. "You claim to be him, and yet you follow none of the articles of his faith."

"I am _trying_ to grow my hair back out," the man replied...also in Punjabi. "Believe it or not, this is already longer than it has been in years. My hair was cut without my knowledge or consent: one of the many indignities I was subjected to by people who wanted to keep me from remembering who I was. I killed the man who gave that order. And regardless: you know I was never the most devout man. Even in our time. "

...That...was true. Khan had never even grown a beard...

And killing the person who'd done something like that to him...that _definitely_ sounded like something Khan would do.

...Still not enough evidence. Not for something this...bizarre.

Gideon switched to Hindi. "Let's assume for a second you're telling the truth. Why did these...people...want you to forget who you are?"

"Why did those men murder our foster–families?" The man had effortlessly made the switch to Hindi as well. "Why did we spend years being conditioned to fight; to kill without mercy? The reasons are the same."

"You're saying the Federation was preparing for a war?" Gideon tried French this time. "And they decided the best way to do that was to wipe the mind of some random person who had been frozen for hundreds of years? These people––with all their advanced technology––you're claiming they––"

"It was a subsection of their leadership." The man's French was spot-on. "Much of which was...obliterated...a few years ago...but not all. Ironically, it is the threat of war that has supplied us with our new home: for years, the Federation has had an unsteady truce with a species called the Klingons. As fate would have it, this––"

"Oh, Christ…" Leonard tensed; took his eye off the eyepiece.

The impostor grabbed his captive's wrist; made Leonard lower the device; switched back to English. "Do not tell me you _slipped_ , doctor."

Gideon bristled; started to get up.

"Nonono," the prisoner rapidly shook his head at Gideon; looked back at his captor. "Everybody calm down. It's nothin' ta do with...the procedure's goin' fine. I'm 'bout halfway there on the left eye, as long as your healing crap doesn't screw with it too much. I was just...I heard Klingon and Federation, and assumed you were explainin' more about what as happening...and it kinda hit me...are we're really gonna have ta explain all of this _sixty six_ more times?"

"Ah," the impostor's shoulders relaxed; he released Leonard's wrist. "Actually, we will need to explain it _sixty-nine_ more times. But that is only if you keep up this _snail's pace_ for the entirety of the process. Once Gideon knows what he's doing, the two of you should be able to revive three or four of my people at a time."

... _His_ people.

This guy was really dedicated to the lie, wasn't he?

Leonard blinked. "Wait, where did sixty-nine come from? I thought––"

"If all goes well, I will be giving Zuleika, Harulf, and Joaquin another chance to join the colony," the Brit said. "I want _all_ of my people back."

...How the _hell_ did this guy know their names?

"Oh, you do, do ya?" It was hard to tell if Leonard was more frustrated or nervous. "Because tryin' ta rescue them went _so well_ the first time?"

...The first time?

"They did not understand what was happening," the impostor countered. "It will be different now. They will _have_ to listen to my side of the story...and besides...they will be revived last. By that point, I will have sixty seven other Augments backing my story."

...Sixty seven…

...Wait.

"If you say so," Leonard sighed. "Just keep them away from sharp objects, alright? I've already put your guts back in place once; I don't wanna do it again."

Those...those numbers couldn't be right. Not unless...

"It is not an experience I would like to repeat either," the impostor nodded. "But they are my people, and if there is any chance of bringing them back to me––"

"What happened?" Gideon interrupted.

The impostor didn't bother to look at him. "...I assume you noticed the discrepancies in our numbers?"

Gideon clenched his jaw. "There were eighty five of us when we left Earth. What happened to the others?"

"From what I could find, there was a power surge on the Botany Bay well over fifty years ago," The imposter shook his head. "Apparently we passed too close to a pulsar...nothing could have been done to prevent it...but we lost twelve of our people that day."

Gideon's stomach clenched.

...Twelve. Twelve more of his friends were...

...That wasn't right.

"Your numbers aren't adding up," Gideon accused. "If what you're saying is true, then what happened to the other three––"

"Freeing our people has not been easy," the Brit interrupted. "After Starfleet found us, there was an...explosion...that disabled the ship carrying our crew. If they had not been able to bring their engines back online...Fortunately, they salvaged their vessel, and our people...But a few years after that, two of our people died in separate...incidents...while I worked for your release."

...He...he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that meant.

"That...still only adds up to _eighty four_. What happened to the last––"

"I _am_ the last one," the impostor snapped; took a deep breath. "...I apologize for the outburst, Gideon. It would be...difficult...to understate how trying these past few years have been. I have been enslaved; demonized; hunted...I even had my _memories_ stolen for a time. And I have had to face these dangers, alone, every step of the way. I had hoped––"

" _Alone_?" Was this guy kidding? "From what Leonard's told me, you haven't been _alone_ for two months! And who are you to talk about being _enslaved_ , when you keep a doctor chained to a bed!"

Their captor went...eerily silent for a good half minute.

"...Move, doctor."

"But...but Khan, you're eye's still––"

"Move."

Their captor put a hand on Leonard's waist; made him walk around to the other side of the biobed. The captive shot Gideon a terrified look, but stayed where he had been placed.

The strange Augment rose; crossed to within a few feet in front of Gideon; took a deep breath...then turned to face him.

...Gideon's skin crawled.

...The man's left eye...half of it was...brown. A rich, deep brown, with just a few flecks of golden–green showing through. The other half was still so...eerily bright blue...that if Gideon didn't know better, he'd say it was a glass eye, or a contact lens, or...

But it wasn't. He'd seen what Leonard had done. He'd...

It...it still didn't prove anything...but it was unsettling. Especially since that...device...still had it forced open.

"Perhaps my choice of words was imperfect..." The impostor admitted. "But McCoy has not been treated nearly as badly as you seem to believe. Yes, there have been...incidents...but I have also been _more_ than forgiving of his past transgressions."

"What could he _possibly_ have done to _justify––_ "

"He stole a sample of my blood," the impostor growled. "He colluded with our enemies; he even tried to sabotage our chance for freedom! But did I kill him for it? No. I even gave him transfusions of my own blood, just to––"

"You _what_?!"

"He had a genetic disorder that was going to kill him within a year," their captor claimed. "Had I not acted––"

"Do you know how dangerous that is?" Gideon seethed. "Do you know how much pain that transition causes? You...you're telling me you _rewrote Leonard's DNA_ as a––"

"It was to _save his life_!" The impostor scowled. "Do not pretend you have never taken that risk yourself, or did you think I would _forget_ about the _'miracle'_ in San Francisco? All those sick, dying people, suddenly overcoming an _incurable_ immunodeficiency virus, right around the time you took up your residency?"

Gideon's eyes went wide; he felt the blood drain from his face.

...How...how did he...

"Their...their government was _ignoring_ them," Gideon stumbled out, completely thrown. "They were _letting_ them die, just because of a bullshit stigma against...No one deserved to die like that! No one––"

"And McCoy did not deserve to die of xenopolycythemia," their captor interrupted. "You see, Gideon? I may have been bewildered by your decision to dedicate your life to healing normal humans after all they put us through...but I _did_ listen to your reports. I knew the risks when I gave McCoy those transfusions, and I knew how to _mitigate_ them...all because of your efforts, hundreds of years ago."

...How had this man known what he did in San Francisco? That...that'd been in the 1990s, and even then...he'd been undercover. Deep behind enemy lines. The _only_ person he'd _ever_ reported that incident to had been...

He...he couldn't deny it anymore. This man...this Augment...knew things. Things only one other person had ever known.

The Augment who was supposed to have revived first by the cryostasis chambers. An Augment that would've walked through fire to find his people a home...no matter what century it was.

"My God," Gideon breathed. "...It's really you, isn't it? You're...you're Khan Noonien Singh."

Khan smiled––a warm, joyous smile made...incredibly disturbing...by the the device still holding his left eye wide open...but it was genuine.

"It has been a long time, my friend. There is much you still need to know."


	66. Chapter 66

Under the proper conditions, anything can become routine.

When Jim had first joined Starfleet, he'd chafed at the uniforms; found every excuse to shed those shiny red suits that he could...but after a few months, he'd actually started to find them...comforting. In that uniform, professors saw him as a student trying to do his best; not some bar-hopping repeat offender who didn't quite belong. By the end of his time at the Academy, putting on uniforms had become like a slipping on a second skin.

Command had been the same way. Frustrating. Terrifying. Confusing. So many new ways to royally screw up not only his life, but the lives of everyone under his command. But he kept going; kept working to live up to the trust Starfleet had placed in him after the Nero disaster...and after a couple years of that struggle, the days where Jim completely doubted his ability to do his job had become few and far between.

"So all nineteen Augments are awake now, Kirk?"

...At least...they _had_ been few and far between.

And he hoped they would be again.

Jim swiveled unconsciously in his chair; focused on the tiny image of Admiral Comsol in the center of his office's viewscreen. He'd decided to take the meeting in his quarters this time. No need to keep stressing out his entire bridge crew every time the horde of admirals wanted a...routine...update. The kind he'd been giving twice a day for...well...it was less time than it felt like it was, but more time than he wanted it to be.

"It's difficult to tell if they're all awake yet, Admiral," the captain reported. "Our sensors are still too scrambled to pick up distinct lifesigns on the moon's surface...but images of the colony taken with the Enterprise's optical scanner have shown a number of people walking in the field around the Botany Bay. Some of them could still be asleep, but at this point, I doubt it."

"And Khan's continued to provide proof that Doctor McCoy is still alive?" Comsol asked.

"He has," Jim said with a sigh. "It doesn't look like Khan's let him outside since the first Augments woke up, but Khan shows us a live feed of the medbay twice a day, and lets me ask B...McCoy a question. Khan always adds his own commentary to the question..but he _does_ ask it. And Leonard responds in real-time. He's definitely still alive."

...And hating Jim more each day.

It was...surreal...that hearing his best friend call him a monster via a security camera had become part of his daily routine...but if it meant he'd get Bones back someday...Jim could live with it.

"And what about the Klingons?" Admiral Nogura asked from the top-center of the screen. "Last night, you said that they were preparing to withdraw all but two of their ships. Have they done so?"

"They have," Jim confirmed. "Chancellor Gorkon says he doesn't plan on leaving the Neutral Zone until we do, but recognizes that having too many fight-hungry warriors in one place is a recipe for disaster. Gorkon's vessel is still in orbit around Khan's moon, as is one other Klingon ship, which is an understandable safety precaution, given the situation. With your permission, Admirals, I would like to invite the Chancellor on a tour of the Enterprise."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Admiral Enwright blurted his tiny box in the lower-right of the screen. " _Talking_ to them is one thing, but letting those warmongers aboard one of our ships––"

"Is probably one of the smartest moves we could make," Nogura interrupted. "If it's still going to be a week _at least_ before we can safely deliver the rest of Khan's crew, then that's a lot of time for the Enterprise crew to just sit there, twiddling their thumbs. It's a much better idea to use the opportunity for a cultural exchange."

"Culture," Enwright snorted. "Those turtle-shell-foreheaded _pirates_ spend _years_ raiding out outposts and ships, and the _second_ we step up patrols, suddenly they have a full, functioning government that claims it owns half the Beta Quadrant, and threatens to go to war if we don't––"

"Enwright, you can either drop the bigoted rants, or get off the channel," Comsol snapped. "If you'd _bothered_ to read the reports I sent you, you would know that the Klingons _do_ appear to have a deep set of cultural traditions. Traditions that _can_ make them prone to seek out war, yes...but they also have a code of Honor that means more to them than their own lives. We need to learn more about them, and they need to learn more about us, if we ever hope to stop living under the constant threat of war. This is not how the Federation _wanted_ to open a dialogue with the Klingons, but we'll take what we can get."

Enwright scowled; his face started turning red...but he kept quiet.

It was the smartest he'd ever sounded.

"Now then," Comsol took a deep breath; let it out; looked back at Jim. "Captain, you have full permission to let Chancellor Gorkon aboard the Enterprise. Keep him happy for another three days, and then you'll be able to focus on returning the next group of Khan's crew, while a small army of Admirals work on an amendment to the Binary Stars treaty with the Klingons."

Jim tensed.

...Three days?

There was _no way_ a Federation ship could get there that fast. Not at warp; _especially_ not through that line of pulsars. Which meant they planned to...

"Admirals…" Jim hoped he could put this delicately. "As much as I want this over with, we told Khan that we wouldn't use transwarp beaming to bring his people here. It's still too inaccurate to safely transport the cryotubes without risking the people inside."

"Good thing we're not using transwarp beaming then," Comsol smirked. "There's an...organic...method of space travel being pioneered by one of our new Crossfield–class research vessels. The tech is still highly experimental, but now that the Discovery has found a work-around for the issue that disabled their sister ship, the tech appears to be highly reliable. If the captain thinks it's safe to make the required jumps, then we should be able to bring all of Khan's crew to you within a week. Two, if she's being cautious."

...An... _organic_...method of space travel...

Jim had no idea what that meant, but he sure as hell wanted to learn all about it.

And if it really helped end this faster, he was all for it.

...But wasn't the Discovery...

"Admiral...the Discovery's the ship Captain Michael Burnham commands, isn't it?" Jim asked, trying to hide his excitement.

Comsol nodded. "It is. Be sure to tell Commander Spock to prepare for a family reunion. Wouldn't want to catch him off guard."

"Of course, Admiral," Jim grinned at the unexpected good news.

He hadn't even _known_ Spock had a sister before this mess started; now he'd have the chance to ply her for dirt and baby pictures. He could already imagine the stoic panic on Spock's face as his imaginary friends came back into the light of day; he could even seem Uhura and Bones grinning ear-to-ear as...

...But they weren't there yet, were they?

There was still no knowing when...

"What's on your mind, Kirk?" Admiral Cornwell's voice broke Jim out of his head. "I haven't seen a face drop so fast since I beat Terral at poker."

"Admiral Terral's a Vulcan," Admiral Garth blurted incredulously. "How could you _possibly––_ "

"He has his tells, and I'm damn good at poker." Cornwell shrugged; focused back on Jim. "Now Captain, please don't tell us there's more bad news on your front. The fallout from that surgery revelation of yours is causing enough chaos over here as it is."

...He wanted to know what that meant, but he had more immediate problems.

"It's nothing catastrophic, Admiral," Jim shook his head. "It's just...ever since Khan found out about the surgeries, he's become intentionally vague as to when he's going to let B...Doctor McCoy go. I asked him again this morning, and all he said was that he'd release McCoy 'when the colony's established.' When I tried to pin down _exactly_ what that meant, he smiled, and cut the connection."

Hopefully it meant after all the Augments had been returned, and the last of the basic supplies had been delivered...but there was a chance he'd hold off on returning Bones for weeks after that. And if Khan decided to screw with them too long…

"So Khan's still playing mind games," Admiral Garth rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Kirk: I'm sure Khan understands how bad it'd be for him to execute his hostage now. Not if he really wants his people to make babies."

Jim stared. "Admiral...you're not suggesting _––_ "

" _He's_ the one who made those supplies a condition of keeping Doctor McCoy alive," Garth insisted. "And if he's listening in again, I'd like him to be reminded of that."

"Your opinion is noted, Garth," Admiral Comsol scowled. "Though I think you need a reminder that the Federation is not in the habit of deliberately withholding medical supplies from people who need them...But that said...Kirk...you need to understand: a good portion of the agreement to supply this colony lies in a _trust_ that Khan's people won't try to shoot down our shuttles. If Khan were to kill Doctor McCoy at this point in the negotiations, then it's doubtful we could ever trust his word again...And in that case, the supply shipments _could_ be stalled indefinitely. For the safety of our pilots."

"...I see."

Jim hoped Khan wasn't listening in this time...Or at least that he hadn't missed part of the conversation. They'd had enough misunderstandings during this mess already; if Khan thought they were trying to get out of those supply shipments...

"Don't worry, Kirk," Admiral Nogura chimed in; gave him a small smile. "That's all just hypothetical speculation. If things keep progressing as they have, then soon, Khan will soon have a sustainable home for his people, and Doctor McCoy will be on his way back to Earth."

...Back to Earth?

"Admiral...you mean _temporarily_ back to Earth, right?" Jim asked nervously. "So he can have a break; a chance to process what he's gone through, and then come back to the Enterprise if and when he's ready?"

Admiral Enwright laughed. "Kirk, Khan's been screwing with the man's head for over two months! How can you possibly think he'd ever be fit to return to duty?"

Jim's heart sank. "You...you can't be serious."

"Enwright, get off the channel." Admiral Comsol ordered. "Now."

"But Admiral-"

"Now!"

Enwright scowled; his screen went black.

Comsol shook his head; sighed. "I'm sorry, Kirk. This is...not the way we wanted to broach this topic. And before you get too upset: giving Doctor McCoy an honorable discharge is just _one_ of the options we've been considering. It's not a done deal by any means."

"So you're actually thinking of kicking him out," Jim growled. "After all he's been through, you're gonna strip away-"

"Take a breath, Kirk," Comsol interrupted. "Like I said: not a done deal. And I assure you we weren't considering it as a disciplinary action. Doctor McCoy has done nothing wrong...but Captain, you have to admit that he's also been through a lot. At the _very least_ , it's likely he is going to need an extended leave. One he might not _want_ to come back from."

"Then let him decide that," Jim implored. "He's not...Look, I've known Leonard McCoy for six years, and I can tell you that he doesn't have a lot of friendships outside Starfleet. Not anymore. He enlisted after a bad divorce. His _sister_ has custody of his daughter, and _they_ live in the Cerberus System. The only family Bones has left on Earth is his mom. That's it. Forcing him out of Starfleet; forcing him to back to Earth indefinitely after everything he's fought to build out here...I honestly think it'd destroy him. Please, don't make this decision before he's even been freed."

"We weren't planning to," Comsol insisted, frustration clear in his voice. "Enwright's just been...he's been acting like the sky is falling; for some reason he's gotten even worse as the situation with the Augments and the Klingons has stabilized. I don't know what's going on in his head, but rest assured that he's not the one that's going to make the final decision on Doctor McCoy's future."

"And who _is_ going to make that decision?" Jim demanded.

"That would be me, Kirk," Admiral Cornwell chimed in. "As the head of Starfleet's mental health division, this isn't my first time dealing with a kidnapping victim. I'll be arriving with the next group of Augments to pour over everything you know about Doctor McCoy's condition, and if and when Khan _finally_ deigns to release him, I'll evaluate McCoy's mental state, and give my recommendation to the rest of Command."

"Don't give the man false hope, Kat," Admiral Garth warned. "There's next to no chance Doctor McCoy will return to duty right away."

"No one was suggesting that, Garth," Cornwell glared. "Of course he's going to need some leave...But many people recover better when they can return to their old routines within a short time after being released. As I've told you repeatedly, we won't really have an idea of what's best for McCoy until he's free, and I've had a chance to evaluate him."

...This still wasn't sitting right.

Intentional or not, it felt like they were trying to railroad his friend out of Starfleet; to say that Bones's experiences with Khan might had turned him into too much of a wildcard to be trusted in a Command position on a Starship...or in any position at all.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair...

And it would crush Bones if it happened.

"Admiral…" What was the best way to put this? "Not to be rude, but don't you think it might be better for my ship's counselor tob the first to evaluate Doctor McCoy? Leonard hand-picked him for this assignment. He trusts him. There's really no need for you to make a special trip."

"I have no doubt that Doctor M'Benga is an excellent counselor," Cornwell assured him. "But he's also McCoy's friend and subordinate. Even the most objective people can have blind spots, and McCoy needs someone who can look at his case with completely fresh eyes."

"But Admiral _––_ "

"If and when Doctor McCoy returns to active duty, M'Benga can take over his case," Cornwell said firmly. "But McCoy has just spent two months going through God-knows-what, and I can assure you from past cases I've dealt with: there are things he won't want to tell a friend. Not now. Doctor McCoy's initial evaluations _must_ be conducted by someone that has zero personal history with him. For his own sake."

Jim opened his mouth to respond; stopped himself; took a deep breath.

...She was right. There was a procedure to this stuff. A procedure to ensure that everyone in Starfleet was safe and healthy, both physically and mentally.

Personal bias during Bones' evaluation could end up hurting him in the long run. Jim didn't have to like it...but it was true.

"...So no decisions will be made until _after_ Leonard's free?"

Cornwell's eyebrow twitched up. "Like you, Kirk, I don't like the idea of making decisions about _any_ Starfleet officer's future via subspace. I'd hate to lose one of the best doctors we have because some asshole went on a revenge kick...And if what you said about McCoy's friends and family is true, then there's a good chance you're right about giving him a discharge. Isolation can exacerbate the effects of trauma, so if McCoy's friends on the Enterprise are his main support system, then sending him back to Earth permanently could be the worst thing for him. We'll just have to wait and see."

...If he was being honest, that was the best response he could've hoped for.

The captain forced his shoulders to relax; he took a deep breath. "That's all I ask, Admiral. Thank you."

"I'm glad we have that settled," Admiral Cornwell said. "Now while we're on the subject of Doctor McCoy's health: has Khan given any indications about the progression of McCoy's xenopolycythemia?"

Jim grimaced; shook his head. "Not a word. I swear, half the time Khan acts like B...like Doctor McCoy isn't even sick...but Leonard wouldn't have risked lying to Khan about something like that, and there are a lot of other diseases Khan could've picked if he was making it up. Ones that would've had easily-faked symptoms..."

"And xenopolycythemia is practically symptomless...at least externally," Cornwell finished. "Alright Captain: if you need us to send any additional medical staff to help with his surgery, just let us know."

"Thank you, Admiral," Jim relaxed a little more. "I...actually was hoping you'd say that. We have a couple fantastic surgeons aboard...but once again...they're all B...Leonard's friends. It might be a good idea to have someone a bit more...detached...for the lead."

Cornwell nodded. "Then I'll see if one of the Discovery's surgeons wants to give it a shot."

"That is if Khan's not a step ahead of us," Admiral Garth huffed. "Maybe the reason Khan hasn't seemed concerned about the xenopoly-whatever is because he's planning on having that Augment doctor do the surgery."

Jim started to tense again.

Admiral Comsol responded first. "And why would Khan want to do that, Garth?"

"Because it's a way to embarrass the Federation," Garth said with a shrug. "If McCoy's not sick anymore, then Khan could hold onto him for another few months. Years even. That terrorist could parade around a Starfleet hostage whose life was saved by somebody who only learned how hold a laser scalpel a few hours before the surgery. Makes for a pretty good piece of walking-talking propaganda. Hell, these people are so backwards, that Augment doctor might just try to cut McCoy open with an actual _metal knife_ , and _stitch_ up the wound with––"

"They were _still_ called _scalpels_ back then, Garth," Cornwell had a warning in her voice. "And doctors _already_ had a code of ethics in the Twentieth Century. You're not helping anyone by assuming every Augment has Khan's bloodlust."

"But to be fair, we haven't really seen any evidence to _disprove_ it, either," Garth insisted. "What Augments have we met? Khan, who's murdered scores of people in the last two months alone, and those three _psychopaths_ that tortured Lieutenant Alvin Kim. That's it. Every single one of them has been nothing _but_ violent, and here we are handing them a colony."

"It's not like we have much of a choice," Admiral Nogura reminded him. "Or did you forget that those bombs are still out there?"

"Oh, I didn't forget," Garth said. "At least, I didn't forget that Khan _says_ there are more bombs. We're caving to a terrorist's whims based on nothing but his word. I bet that if we just stunned him from orbit, and hauled him off right now, we could––"

"Start a war with the Klingons?" Nogura scowled. "Remember, Garth: Khan won that moon according to Klingon law. Even if there _aren't_ any more bombs––and I personally believe there _are_ more––attacking Khan now would destroy our chance at a lasting peace. It's an unnecessary risk on all fronts."

"Alright, fine," Garth threw up his hands. "Just don't come crying to me when you realize just how many resources the Federation's gonna have to divert to a useless rock in the middle of nowhere, just to avoid an 'unnecessary risk.'"

...Was Admiral Garth really complaining about having to send basic supplies to the colony? Was he really still advocating...

...This wasn't about supplies at all, was it?

"Admirals," Jim blurted before he'd really thought about what he wanted to say.

They stopped arguing; looked at him expectantly.

He...he needed to put it into words. It was...there was something that had been eating at him for months...and if he didn't ask now, he'd never forgive himself.

But he might as well _try_ to keep himself from being booted out of Starfleet. For Bones' sake, if nothing else.

The captain picked his target carefully. The higher the rank that approved this, the more protected he would be.

"...Permission to speak freely, Admiral Comsol?"

Comsol raised an eyebrow. "I'll be honest, Kirk: I'm a little afraid to find out why you felt the need to ask that _after_ arguing with us for fifteen minutes...but I'm too curious to deny you. Go ahead."

...So far, so good.

"I...Admiral Garth's comments have made me feel it necessary to raise a question I had hoped would answer itself."

"Oh, really?" Garth said incredulously. "And what question would that be?"

"I…" Here went nothing. "I was wondering if anyone in Starfleet Command...or even the Federation Council, for that matter...had given any thought to the full future of the Augment colony. Twenty, fifty...a hundred years from now...what's the Federation's plan?"

Garth groaned. "Kirk, we haven't even written the treaty amendment yet. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I don't think I am," the captain said bluntly. "I believe the amendment to the treaty needs to include language that _ensures_ the Augment colony is treated as a sovereign nation. One whose citizens can apply for citizenship or asylum with the Federation...or even the Klingon Empire...in the event that their nation collapses. And I believe the door needs to be left open to––"

"Have you gone insane?" Admiral Garth gaped. "You really want those people running around the quadrant––"

"Most of ' _those people_ ' never did anything to hurt us," Jim countered. "I thought we were supposed to be leaving prejudice in the past, Admiral. I'm not saying we hand Khan a warp–capable ship and tell him to have fun. I'm asking if we really going to treat an entire subsection of Humanity as a threat too dangerous to let out into the galaxy. Are we going to pretend that it's _right_ to _force_ them to stay on that moon, no matter how much time passes? No matter how their society changes?"

"They chose this," Garth growled. "They already told us they don't want to be part of the Fed––"

" _Khan_ doesn't want to be part of the Federation," Jim corrected. "But the rest of his people were never given that choice. Yes, he's their leader, and there's a good chance that this generation of Augments will stand by his decision...But what about their kids? Or their grandkids? Or their great-great-great...great grandkids? If we don't set up a plan, _now_ , that ensures they are not judged for the actions of their ancestors, then we're going to end up supplying an internment camp, instead of a colony."

"Stop being so melodramatic," Admiral Garth interrupted with an eye roll. " _Khan's_ the one who turned this thing bloody. Nobody forced him to go on a killing spree. Whatever happens to his people is his own––"

"Enough, Garth," Admiral Comsol said exhaustedly; rubbed his temples. "That's a...disturbing rabbit hole, Kirk...but I see your point. It's...it's a reasonable concern. I'll have a talk with some of my friends at the Federation Council; see what language they recommend be put into the amendment to ensure something like that doesn't happen."

...If Jim'd ever wondered why, out of all the Admirals, Comsol had been made head of Starfleet Command...now he knew. The man had a brain, a conscience, and a soul.

It was one of the most reassuring revelations Jim'd had in months.

"Thank you, Admiral," the captain let himself take a deep breath. "It's...I think this is a good start...And we need to make sure the history books recount _everything_ that's happened here. Not just what Khan did to us, but what we did to him and his people. We need to remember the atrocities that were committed in our name, work to fix the damage, and fight not to slip back into the attitudes that caused them. I think _that_ is the only way the Federation is going to become what we've always claimed that we are."


	67. Chapter 67

Preparing a colony felt, in some ways, like a new way of waging war.

A long...boring war. A war against the elements, and starvation, and unknown diseases that could potentially overwhelm even an Augment's immune system.

It could become the most important war Khan had ever––

"So how's that shipment of thermal concrete working out?" Kirk's tired voice interrupted Khan's wandering thoughts.

"Quite well," Khan nodded at the small figure on the viewscreen. "At the moment, there appears to be more than enough for both the foundations of our homes, and an emergency shelter. I assume we will be able to procure more in six months?"

"If you need more, we can get you more," the captain confirmed. "It's a pretty standard supply for a colony. Have you tried planting any of the seed we sent you yet?"

"Just a few acres of quadrotriticale," the Augment huffed. "If all goes as you claim, we should have our first harvest in two months...I do find it a bit ironic, though."

"Find what ironic?"

"That your government sent a genetically engineered grain to feed a genetically engineered people," Khan chuckled. "Your society allows for the improvement of every type of lifeform, _except_ for those that are already sentient. Your fear of being left behind blinds you to the potential of the future."

"I would say it's less about being afraid, and more about knowing when to keep our egos in check," Kirk shot back. "If we fall into the trap of thinking that intelligence, or strength, or any other arbitrary characteristic makes one person better than another, then we set ourselves up to become the worst versions of––"

"And yet your people have decided mine are, by virtue of our birthright, too dangerous to roam free."

"You know that's not what happened here. Don't pretend––"

"I do not contest the Federation's motives for wanting me to remain on this moon for the rest of my life. I just hope the same will not be true for the rest of my people. Not forever."

The captain grimaced; sighed. "You'll get to look over the amendment before it's ratified. If they've listened to anything by I've been telling them...I don't think you'll have many complaints."

"That is good to hear," Khan smirked. "I am certain you cannot wait for this to be over. Just think, Kirk: if all goes well, we will only have to coordinate one more shuttle––"

"About that, Khan…" Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. "Doctor Chapel came back in tears today, _again_ , after dropping off the last of your crew. When I asked her about it, she muttered something about _dismemberment_ , then locked herself in her quarters. I know you've got a grudge against her, but enough is en––"

"It is enough when _I_ say it is enough," Khan growled. "If Christine Chapel is not on the shuttle that comes to extract Doctor McCoy, I will not let him go. Do I make myself clear?"

The look Kirk gave him was...pure hatred.

It was far from the first time he had seen that expression on the captain's face...but he never grew tired of it.

"She'll be there," Kirk relented. "Despite my concerns, Chapel's adamant that she needs to see this through. I just thought––"

"That it was your duty to attempt to shield her from me," Khan surmised. "I don't blame you, even if your attempt was feeble."

The captain glared. "So that's the plan, then? I send Chapel down with the last of your basic supplies, you mess with her head for a few minutes, and then you free Doctor McCoy?"

"' _Free'_ is such a vague word," Khan smirked. "You might want to be more specific."

Kirk's face started turning an amusing shade of red. "You wanted your people back? You've got your people back. You wanted independence? The amendment's almost done. You wanted a colony? We're helping you stock it so you don't all _starve_ in three months. And we have done all of that under the _generous_ assumption that you're acting in _good faith_ , and won't screw us over just because you _feel like it._ Now, have you given _any_ thought as to how and when you're going to let Leonard return, _alive and well_ , to the Enterprise, or should I tell the admirals that you're not planning on keeping your end of the bargain?"

The terrorist scoffed; opened his mouth to deliver a withering retort...and stopped himself.

...Restraint. Tact. Fairness.

...A great leader could not put his petty diversions before the welfare of his people.

Over the past months, Kirk had proved an entertaining adversary. Even, at times...intellectually stimulating. And if the briefings Khan had intercepted were any indication, the captain had somehow managed to hold onto his integrity throughout their conflict. The man had the wisdom to set aside his prejudices, and lobby for the rights of his enemies.

Khan could respect that. Truly, he could.

But Kirk was also becoming more and more desperate to free his "dying" best friend with each passing day. And desperate men often made cataclysmic mistakes.

His people could not afford any more of those. It was time to act like a leader.

"I do have a plan for McCoy's release," Khan revealed. "A plan that will not be set into motion until I receive verification that the amendment to the treaty has been ratified, and my people are officially considered citizens of an independent, sovereign nation under the _protection_ of both the Federation and Klingon Empire. Once the Federation sends me multiple physical and digital copies of the amended treaty, and Chancellor Gorkon swears on his Honor that the amendment is in full effect, I will take three days to ensure McCoy has filled in any vital gaps in Doctor Hawkins' medical knowledge, and then I will permit a single shuttle–– _containing Doctor Chapel_ ––to come retrieve him. No one involved in the exchange will be physically harmed. The shuttle will depart the moment McCoy is aboard; then all Federation and Klingon vessels will vacate Augment space. Any objections?"

Kirk took a deep breath; shook his head. "No objections here...And what about the deactivation codes?"

"McCoy will deliver them," Khan promised. "I am still debating whether to put them on a PADD, or write them out on actual paper. I am certain you would prefer paper, as even I would have trouble hiding a bomb in something that thin, but that is a far more tedious task than dictating them onto a PADD. In either case, I will have to––"

" _Gideon to Khan?"_

Khan blinked as the doctor's voice came over the intercom. He held up a finger to a worried Kirk; activated the intercom to the medbay.

"Yes, Doctor?"

" _Harulf, Joaquin and Zeulika should be awake any minute,"_ Gideon sounded annoyed. _"You told Leonard you would be here well before that happened, so if you could head over––"_

"Of course," Khan grimaced. "My apologies: I lost track of time. I will be right there. I also advise you to move towards the biobeds: I will put up the force field in about _––_ "

" _I know the drill. See you soon."_

The comm cut out; Khan refocused on his adversary.

"Any more questions, Kirk? Or may I assist Doctors McCoy and Hawkins?"

The captain shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait. Not as long as you keep your end of––"

"I already told you I would. Until tonight, Captain."

Khan cut the channel before Kirk could respond; then fished one of the Starfleet communicators he'd stolen from Xedna Eight out of his coat; flipped it open. He had not yet taken the time to deactivate the devices' universal translators, but he had limited their range to a handful of encrypted frequencies. That simple change prevented any curious members of his crew from contacting the ships in orbit without his permission, while simultaneously turning the communicators into perfect tools for coordinating their construction efforts...

Waste not, want not.

"Khan to Basil. Can you spare Suzette Ling for the afternoon?"

There was a slight pause, most likely as the engineer fumbled for the communicator Khan had given him, and then Basil's perpetually slightly-stressed voice broke the silence.

" _Any chance it can wait an hour? Turns out she's a menace with a welding torch, and these foundations aren't going to reinforce themselves."_

"I understand your desire to be efficient," Khan huffed. "But I need her in the medbay as soon as you can spare her. Joaquin will be waking up shortly."

" _Of course. I'll send her over asap...By the way, this blueprint program you gave me is astounding. It's so intuitive, I've quadrupled my normal design speed. Who programmed this thing?"_

Khan's mirth dissipated.

...It had been one of the first projects that bastard Marcus had assigned him to. Just something simple; something to demonstrate his speed at picking up new skills. At the time, it had seemed like therapy: a way to 'remember' the advanced programming knowledge he'd supposedly used 'constantly' in his life as John Harrison.

He designed that monster the most intuitive and versatile blueprint software in existence, and _thanked_ him for the opportunity.

"I've gained quite a few new skills since we left Earth," Khan fought to keep his tone light. "I may now actually be _better_ at architecture and engineering than you, Basil."

He heard the engineer laugh. _"You think so? Then maybe we should have a contest: I design the left half of your palace, and you can design the right. See which half comes out better."_

Khan huffed. "Let's focus on providing our people with the bare necessities first, and _then_ we can build extravagant palaces...agreed?"

" _That's fair. Need anything else?"_

...Given the circumstances, it was probably for the best.

"Do you remember that...interruption...we discussed?"

" _...Yeah. I do."_

"If I do not contact you in an hour, then do it."

" _...Is everything alright up there?"_

"Everything is fine. I just believe they will need to hear another familiar voice."

" _Makes sense. I'll check in in an hour."_

"Thank you, Basil."

" _Any time."_

Khan put the communicator away; started towards the medbay.

About halfway there, he pulled a PADD out of his coat; switched it to the medbay's security feed; remotely activated the force field. His old friends would likely wake up before he arrived...and given their...recent history...he needed to choose his entrance wisely.

 _In the medbay, Gideon was standing next McCoy; they were looking at their three unconscious patients._

"–– _Not here by the time they wake up, then I need you to stay back," Gideon said. "Joaquin and Zuleika are easily the two most dangerous people in our entire society."_

...The two most dangerous survivors, at least.

If Khan was being honest with himself, he had been a little relieved to discover that Elroy had apparently died during the pulsar incident. Better that...psychopath...than Hawkins, Basil, Aiko, or...any of the others who survived. Elroy may have sworn to keep his behaviors in check on their new home, but even so...Khan had feared for the native fauna. The man's death made things much simpler.

" _Are they really that bad?" McCoy asked nervously._

" _It's...complicated," Gideon shook his head. "The war brought out the worst in a lot of us. Joaquin was Khan's bodyguard, and I once saw him throw a man out a three-story window for popping a balloon in Khan's presence. And Zuleika was...she was an assassin. Killing was pretty much her main job. If one of us was captured, or if someone was closing in on one of our bases, Khan'd send her out to...'clean up the mess,' as the euphemism goes. She'd rescue any captured Augments, if possible...and turn entire military bases into graveyards. So when I tell you I should handle their care––"_

" _You mean you'd prefer I wasn't even in the room when they wake up," McCoy summarized. "But since I don't have that option, you'll settle for havin' me treat the...what was he again?"_

" _A spy," Gideon said. "But not a James Bond-type. More of a...how many Twentieth-Century pop-culture spies do you know?"_

" _Honestly, ya lost me at James Bond."_

" _Alright...well, let's just say that Harulf was never much of a fighter, .but he was damn good at finding things people didn't want him to find. During the war, Khan sent him to undermine governments in Northern Europe...mainly by digging up dirt Khan could use to blackmail their politicians."_

 _The prisoner snorted. "_ Classy _. But I guess it's better than him just killin' anybody who got in his way."_

" _Khan never liked to spill blood when a good photograph could get him what he wanted," Gideon shrugged. "Most of us were on orders not to kill unless it was the only way to keep our cover from being blown. Too much risk, even for some of my peers who didn't have a problem with murder."_

" _So ya think Harulf's first instinct's gonna be ta analyze me, 'stead of wakin' up swinging?"_

 _Gideon nodded. "Pretty much...but just to be safe, try not to hover next to his biobed. From what Khan's told me about his first rescue attempt, these three are_ not _going to be happy when they wake up."_

" _I saw the aftermath a' that disaster," McCoy sighed as he glanced at the blond man lying on the rightmost biobed. "You're probably right. Better ta not get strangled again if I can avoid it. Why the hell do y'all go straight fer the throat, anyway? I swear ta God, if one more person––"_

" _It was part of our training," Gideon explained. "Especially with our strength, a hand or arm to the throat's a quick way to get control of a subject, both physically and psychologically. If you want the person alive, it usually scares them into compliance...and if you want them dead––"_

" _I get it," McCoy groaned. "I'm just tired 'a bein' everybody's favorite hostage. Seventeen of you guys have tried ta throttle me so far."_

" _I've been grabbed a couple times too," Gideon reminded him._

" _Yeah, but the second they get a good look at you, they let go._ _I'm fourteen-ta-three on gettin' 'em ta let go without help. Most the time,_ I _have ta stand there, limp as a rag doll, till you talk 'em down. It gets old."_

" _Well, hopefully it won't be an issue again," Gideon sighed. "At least it won't be if Khan gets the lead out of his ass."_

The terrorist rolled his eyes; leaned against the wall outside the closed medbay door.

In the plan he had worked out with Gideon, Khan was supposed to arrive far before Harulf, Joaquin and Zuelika woke up, take McCoy off his chain, and move him behind the protection of the force field.

But for what Khan actually had in mind...that plan needed a few alterations. Alterations neither doctor would like, were they to know about them in advance.

Gideon had taken to McCoy like a protective older brother. A situation which seemed a bit ironic, given that all the Augments' bodies and minds were...in _practicality_ , if not in _technicality_...a few years younger than McCoy's.

Irony aside, the benefits of their friendship were glaringly obvious...but it did concern Khan that his prisoner might let slip something that was supposed to be between the two of them. There was no telling...

 _Zuleika's hand twitched; she let out a small groan._

 _Both doctors froze for a moment; then McCoy backed up against the storage crates; Gideon rushed to Zuleika's side._

" _Nice to have you back, Zuleika," the Augment doctor said softly in Punjabi. "It's Gideon. Gideon Hawkins."_

" _...Gideon?" The assassin's eyes focused in on him; went wide. "How...I don't understand."_

" _You just came out of stasis," Gideon told her. "Take your time waking up. There's no rush. You're in a safe place."_

" _But...but we were…This doesn't make sense."_

" _I know," Gideon sighed. "I heard you...went through an ordeal. And we'll catch you up to speed on what happened in a little while. But for now, I promise, you're safe here. Just ease back into things."_

 _Zuleika winced; then slowly sat up on the biobed._

" _Would you like some water?" Gideon asked. "It helps with the nausea and dry throat."_

 _She took a deep breath; nodded._

 _The Augment doctor turned to McCoy; switched to English._

" _Leonard, could you please grab a cup of water?"_

" _Sure thing," McCoy rattled off towards the bathroom._

 _Zuleika stiffened. "Who the hell is that?"_

" _A friend," Gideon assured her in Punjabi. "He's just trying to help."_

" _Who's he work for? How long have I..." Zuleika froze; her face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Oh, Gideon, you kinky bastard! "_

 _Gideon gaped at her. "What are you talking about?"_

" _Friend, my ass!" she pointed at the chain stretching from the middle biobed to the bathroom where McCoy was filling a cup of water. "You're keeping a pet. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? Did you smuggle him all the way from Earth, or is he––"_

" _Oh, God no!" Gideon balked. "He's not...I'd never...I didn't put that...thing...around his ankle. If I knew the code to take it off, I wouldn't hesitate to do so."_

" _What's she sayin'?" McCoy called nervously from the bathroom, clearly not liking the sudden change in his friend's tone._

" _Don't worry about it," Gideon reassured McCoy in English; then turned back to Zuleika; switched back to Punjabi. "He's not here for..._ anything _like that. He's teaching me modern medical techniques."_

" _Like fetching water," Zuleika raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Come on, you don't have to be coy with me. I don't judge. You remember my little experiment––"_

" _Stop," The Augment doctor cringed. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you bring that up. You're head's still swimming from stasis; you've probably forgotten how disgusted…"_

The doctor continued talking, but movement from the center biobed diverted Khan's attention.

 _...Joaquin was beginning to stir._

Khan tensed, but did not open the medbay door.

He needed answers. Answers which his awakening peers would not give freely if he were present.

Had they truly attacked him because they thought he was an impostor, or had they made some kind of deal with Starfleet? Were they truly as loyal as he believed when they escaped Earth, or had he made a potentially fatal error all those years before?

The only way to know for certain was to eavesdrop on their conversations for as long as he could; to only enter when he was certain whether or not all he had to do to bring them into the fold was convince them of his identity.

...Unfortunately, that also meant he could not alert Gideon and McCoy to Joaquin's conscious state.

 _The prisoner returned from the bathroom with a cup of water; nervously made his way towards Zuleika's biobed._

 _He did not notice Joaquin's stirrings until the bodyguard was already on his feet._

" _GIDE––"_

 _McCoy's frightened cry was cut off by a fist to the face. Water splashed across the floor as the prisoner fell._

 _Joaquin's arm wrapped around McCoy's throat before the doctor could right himself; dragged him to the back of the room._

" _Oh, shit." Gideon took a step towards them._

" _Stay back!" Joaquin was glassy-eyed; clearly suffering the side-effects of his revival from cryostasis. "I'll snap his neck! Do not test me!"_

" _Easy," Gideon showed the bodyguard his hands. "He's just a doctor, Joaquin. He means you no harm. Please, let him go."_

" _How do you know my name? Where am I?"_

" _Don't you recognize me?" It was clearly a strain for Gideon to smile, but he did. "I know I was off on assignment for a long time, but I was back with all of you months before we left Earth. I thought you'd've gotten used to seeing me without the beard."_

 _Joaquin's eyes narrowed; widened. "Gideon...What's going on? Who is this man?"_

" _He's a doctor," Gideon repeated. "He's been helping to take us out of stasis. Please, let him go. You're going to hurt––"_

" _Is he with_ them _?" The bodyguard didn't take his arm off McCoy's throat._

" _With who?"_

"Starfleet _," Joaquin's eyes scanned the room. "That treacherous bastard_ Kirk _locked up our entire population in some rat-infested hellhole, didn't he? He's_ got _to be watching us. Show yourself, coward! I swear, I'll rip your doctor_ in half _if you don't––"_

" _Dammit, Joaquin!" Gideon pointed at the shackle around McCoy's left ankle. "Just look!_ He's _the prisoner here, not you!"_

 _The bodyguard scowled...but glanced down._

 _Khan could read in Joaquin's posture the exact second his old friend registered the chain. The man had never been subtle._

" _Please," Gideon implored. "Khan's going to be here any second. You don't want to––"_

"Khan _is_ here _?" Joaquin's head snapped up. "You are_ certain _?"_

" _Completely," Gideon nodded. "I've checked his DNA twenty times, using very conceivable type of sample. It's really him. Khan's the one that brought us to this place. Not this...Starfleet...you mentioned._ Khan _. And if you kill his prized hostage, he's going to be pissed."_

 _The bodyguard hesitated a moment longer...then shoved McCoy away._

 _The prisoner stumbled away from his attacker; tripped over the chain._

 _Gideon caught him before he could fall. "You alright?"_

" _..._ Fifteen _-ta-three."_

 _The Augment winced; studied the bruise visibly spreading across McCoy's left cheek. "We need to get a dermal regenerator on that."_

 _McCoy nodded his consent; let himself be led to the biobed Joaquin had vacated._

 _The bodyguard never took his eyes off McCoy as Gideon collected a tricorder and dermal regenerator from the shelves; waived the tricorder in front of his friend's face._

" _Nothing's broken," Gideon told the man. "Just bruised pretty deep...though you might have a concussion...and it looks like you bit the inside of your cheek."_

" _That'd explain the copper taste in my mouth," McCoy grumbled. "Could ya do the outside first? I'd rather not have any of it visible when Khan gets here."_

" _So he's_ Khan's _pet?" Zuleika asked in Punjabi; huffed. "Hypocrite."_

" _He's not anyone's_ pet _," Gideon snapped back in Punjabi. "Leonard's not here of his own free will, but he's a good man who wants to go home to his daughter. Do me a favor, and treat him like that."_

" _And why is this 'good man' chained to a bed?" Joaquin demanded from the corner he seemed content to remain wedged in._

" _...It's Khan's choice," Gideon sighed; lifted the dermal regenerator to McCoy's face. "Khan claims that the chain keeps Leonard safer: that it makes people realize he's not a threat, and stops them from dragging him away for...who knows what."_

" _Unless somebody cut off his foot," Joaquin defiantly pointed out._

" _That kind of extraction's far too tricky," Zuleika shook her head. "Too many major blood vessels in the leg. He could bleed out before you even had a chance to cauterize the wound, which would make the whole exercise pointless if you wanted him alive. And unless you want inhuman screeching alerting everyone in a mile radius to what you're doing, then you'd have to knock him out before you started...which makes the whole knowing if he's gonna bleed out thing a lot more difficult. Trust me."_

" _The_ point _is," Gideon cut back in, clearly unsettled by the direction the conversation was headed, "Khan's the only one who can take that chain off Leonard's ankle. And as much as I object to such a degrading practice––"_

" _And where is Khan?" Joaquin interrupted._

" _Running late," Gideon said. "He was supposed to be here before you woke up. I'm not sure what's keeping him––"_

" _Does he know about the impostor?"_

 _Gideon paused; looked back at him. "What impostor?"_

" _The man claiming to be Khan Noonien Singh," Joaquin let out a dry laugh. "Like anyone who served with the real Khan would ever be fall for such an obvious fake! What was that Brit thinking?"_

" _...Oh." Gideon sighed; continued working. "Right...He said there'd been an incident...one where...Alright. There's...a few things you need to know...and you're probably not going to like all of it."_

" _Perhaps you could begin with where we are?"_

 _McCoy jumped at the new voice; spun to face Harulf._

 _The former spy's eyes were open; his mouth was twitched into a smirk. He sat up on his biobed; stretched._

 _Gideon's brow knitted together. "How long have you been awake?"_

" _Since your prisoner was complaining about how often he is attacked," Harulf rolled his neck; huffed. "It seems he was not exaggerating."_

" _He's not my prisoner," Gideon groaned; set the dermal regenerator on the biobed; stood up. "Alright, now that everybody's awake, let's make sure we're all on the same page: this is Leonard McCoy. He's a doctor who has helped me safely wake all of our people, and is also teaching me modern medical techniques. Yes, that is a shackle connecting his ankle to that bedpost. Yes, he is a prisoner. No, he is not_ my _prisoner: he is_ Khan's _. And no, you are_ not _allowed to be an asshole to him. Any questions so far?"_

 _Harulf's lip twitched. "A few...but I believe they may be answered by whatever speech you are about to launch into."_

" _Good." Gideon took a deep breath in; let it out. "Now, if it's alright with everyone, then for Leonard's sake, I'm going to do this in English. He's from a small town in Georgia, America, and only speaks English, and a language none of you have ever heard of. He is_ trying _to learn Punjabi, but he doesn't know enough to follow a conversation yet."_

" _The whole lexical tone thing's throwin' me for a loop," the captive gave them an embarrassed smile. "But I hope ta––"_

" _I thought you said he was a doctor," Joaquin interrupted. "How could somebody stupid enough to get confused by lexical tone ever be a doctor?"_

 _Gideon scowled. "He's only been at it about two weeks. Learning languages might be as easy as breathing for you and me, but for people without our enhancements, even basic grammar is practically impossible to memorize that fast. Don't insult Leonard for trying––"_

" _It can't be that hard," Joaquin snorted._

" _You would be surprised, Joaquin," Harulf chuckled. "You spent most of your time on Earth by Khan's side; you were constantly surrounded by your peers. Your longest undercover mission was_ three weeks _. You've never had to keep a straight face as your 'co-worker' fumbles her way through a Spanish-to-English dictionary."_

" _Or as some silver-haired politician butchers a speech in a language he's been practicing for months," Zuleika rasped. "It would've been hilarious, even if he hadn't almost started a war."_

" _Exactly," Harulf nodded. "We cannot expect––"_

" _This doesn't matter!" Joaquin snapped. "Speak whatever language you want, but use it to get Khan here immediately! He needs to know that someone has been impersonating him; that his legacy is being tarnished by some_ fake _with a British accent! There is no telling what that bastard has done in Khan's name!"_

...And there it was.

Marcus' mutilations were the reason they attacked.

No secret deals. No power grabs. Just...ignorance.

They were still loyal to him. All they needed was the proper evidence that he was who he claimed to be.

And there was only one way to provide it.

Khan put the PADD in a coat pocket; opened the medbay door; stepped inside.

"Hello, old friends. It is good to see you again."

The room's occupants turned to him; the three new arrivals' expressions careened between shock confusion, and outrage.

" _You_!" Joaquin finally left his corner; stormed towards the center of the room. " _You're_ the one who attacked us, you _impostor––_ "

"Please, take a breath Joaquin," Gideon urged his peer; scowled at Khan. "You're _late_."

"Forgive me, Doctor," Khan apologized in English. "It was not my fault. Our Federation contact was being unreasonable. Kirk _refused_ to let me off the line until I––"

" _Kirk_!" Joaquin seethed. "I _knew_ you were allied with our captors, you lying––"

"Now how would that work?" Khan raised an eyebrow. "You saw the state I left that outpost. Who in their right mind would ever do that to an _ally_?"

"You just admitted to _conspiring_ with them," Zuleika's voice cracked. "How can you possibly explain that?"

...He _had_ to convince them. The alternatives were...nonviable.

"There have been some new developments since you were last awake," Khan began. "But before I go into detail on that issue...re-introductions are in order. I know this will be difficult for you to believe, but as I said on that outpost, my name is Khan Noonien Singh. I am the same man who led you from Earth––"

"Are you kidding me?" Joaquin laughed; jabbed a finger in McCoy's direction. "Next you're going to try to convince us _that_ is Basil? Sorry, professor: I didn't recognize you with the beard!"

Clearly surprised to be addressed, McCoy looked around; awkwardly pointed to himself.

"I know it sounds insane," Gideon chimed in. "But he's telling the truth. He knows things only Khan ever knew, and when I ran his DNA––"

"Don't fall for his tricks!" Joaquin pointed a finger at Khan. "He killed Otto!"

"He _stabbed_ me in the _stomach_ ," Khan countered. "None of you would listen to me; you attacked before I could try to explain––"

"So you admit it!" Joaquin shouted. "You admit you murdered one of us!"

Khan felt his face turning red; he took a deep breath to calm himself down.

Patience.

They had every reason to distrust him; every reason to believe the worst.

Otto had been...he had been a good friend. One Khan truly mourned. But there had been no other way.

" _Murder_ is too strong a word," Khan truly believed that. "Had I not killed Otto, the four of you would have ripped me to pieces. As it was, I nearly bled out after escaping you; only Doctor McCoy's skilled hands prevented your impulsive attack from dooming our entire population. I _hate_ that our first reunion led to Otto's death, but I will _not_ apologize for an act of self-def––"

"ENOUGH!"

Joaquin charged at Khan.

...And bounced off the force field like a rubber ball.

"If you had bothered to look down, you might have noticed the bright red parallel lines painted across the floor." Khan gestured to them; raised an eyebrow at his old bodyguard. "They are not decorations. They are a warning that there is an invisible wall of energy preventing you from leaving this room. I'd advise you not to touch it again."

Those lines had been a useful addition to the medbay. Many of his people were quite disoriented when they first came out of stasis; the force field was useful for keeping them from wandering the ship...but sometimes they forgot it was there, and hit it repeatedly. The red lines were not a perfect solution, but they had helped alleviate the problem.

Unfortunately, Joaquin did not seem to appreciate his ingenuity.

The man stumbled to his feet; shoved Gideon away as the doctor tried to help him up.

"So we _are_ prisoners," the bodyguard growled.

"Not prisoners," Khan insisted. "But I cannot have a repeat of our last encounter. I have no desire to harm any of you, and neither Doctor Hawkins nor Doctor McCoy want to spend the next six hours performing surgery. Once you are convinced of my identity, I will let you––"

"Then we're never leaving this room!" Joaquin shouted; turned on Gideon. "You honestly believe _this_ man is Khan? You believe that this ghost-pale Angrez could possibly be––"

"I believe his DNA," Gideon replied firmly. "Every sample I took––no matter where it came from; no matter how invasive I had to be to get it––every single sample matched my memory of Khan Noonien Singh's DNA sequence. And there is no way anyone else would know the things he knows about us. I have quizzed him on everything I could think of, and he's gotten it all right, from details about that hellhole where we spent our youth, to the lullaby Sarina Kaur would sing to us, to the first girl he ever kissed."

"Miranda Fearn," Khan smiled sadly at the memory. "Right after we escaped from the training facility, she pulled me to her...and then vanished into the night. I never did find her again. I hope she was able to live a long, happy life."

Zuleika let out a dry laugh. "And how do you explain how different he looks from the real Kh..."

The assassin suddenly hunched over; started coughing. Joaquin crossed to her; tried patting her on the back. She groaned; pushed him away.

"Dry throat, dumbass," Zuleika shot a withering look at McCoy. "The pet never got me my water."

" _Pet_?" McCoy balked; looked up at Gideon. "Is that what she was sayin' when you got upset? That I'm––"

"McCoy, would you mind bringing out some water?" Khan asked calmly. "My friends will undoubtedly be in a better mood when their throats don't feel like sandpaper."

"I'll get it," Gideon said before the prisoner could respond. "Leonard needs to rest."

Khan tilted his head. "And why is that?"

"Because Joaquin _decked him_ before you got here," Gideon pointed to the half-healed bruise on McCoy's cheek. "I'm still not sure whether or not he has a concussion. You _promised_ you would be here before they woke up, and your failure to keep that promise almost got Leonard kil––"

"I already apologized for the delay. If you want to fetch the water, I have no objections to it. After all, I am certain Zuleika just wants something to quench her thirst."

"Damn straight," the assassin coughed again.

Without another word, Gideon left McCoy's side; disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water permeated the air.

"The bathroom is fully functional," Khan informed his three angry colleagues. "If any of you feel nauseous enough to vomit...or otherwise need to utilize that room in the next few minutes, the button to close the door is––"

"Answer my question," Zuleika gritted out. "How can you be Khan when you look like you just fell out of a Sherlock Holmes novel?"

"My appearance and memories were altered by a Starfleet admiral," Khan grimaced. "He wanted to use my ruthless tactical mind and physical abilities 'without the accompanying ego,' as he put it in his laughably easy-to-hack personal logs. It took nearly two years to regain my memories, and escape from––"

"So that's it?" Harulf raised an eyebrow. "You are truly claiming that these people have the ability to permanently alter not only one's skin color, but their entire skeletal structure and vocal resonance as well?"

"It's true," Gideon reentered with a glass of water; handed the cup to Zuleika. "The technology available in this century is absolutely _mesmerizing_. Khan had Leonard change his eye color right in front of me! His eyes went from blue to brown in a matter of minutes, and that was with a _handheld_ device and _local anesthesia_. If that's possible, can you imagine how far other forms of plastic surgery have––"

" _Basil to Khan!"_

Khan frowned at the sudden interruption. He was fairly certain that, at most, only twenty minutes had passed; not an hour. He needed more time to convince them––

" _Khan, please answer! It's an emergency!"_

...Basil sounded genuinely upset. What could possibly...

...Harulf, Joaquin and Zuelika were staring at him, eyes wide with shock.

They recognized the engineer's voice.

Whatever else was happening, at least _that_ was a step in the right direction.

Khan fished the communicator out of his pocket; flipped it open.

"Yes, Basil?"

" _We need Gideon out here. Now. Some scaffolding Vipin was welding together just fell over, and a piece of the stuff went through Lucius' thigh. Lucius keeps screaming for us to pull it out, but I––"_

"Leave it alone!" Gideon and McCoy shouted simultaneously.

" _That's what I thought. What should I do till you get here?"_

"Keep the scaffolding stable," McCoy called out as he moved towards the trauma kit they kept atop the storage crates; unzipped the bag. "The more it moves around, the more damage it's gonna do."

"And control the bleeding," Gideon added as he hurried to McCoy's side. "Press the edges of the wound towards each other as much as you can without jostling the scaffolding.

"And find a saw," McCoy ordered. "You're probably gonna have ta cut part of the scaffolding off ta make him easier ta move."

" _On it. Please, hurry up."_

"Everything in there?" Gideon asked.

"Looks like it," McCoy confirmed. "Might wanna grab some blood, just ta be safe."

"Already on it," Gideon rushed to the cold storage refrigerator Starfleet had provided them; retrieved a bag of blood. "Hopefully we can stabilize him before we need any more than this."

"Given how fast y'all heal, that's a pretty good guess," McCoy zipped the trauma kit closed; slung it over his shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yep. Let's go."

The doctors crossed to the center of the room; stared at Khan in anticipation.

...He had been counting on Gideon's presence to help calm the new arrivals. And this accident would inevitably delay Suzette as well. Joaquin would be much more difficult to mollify until their reunion...

But it appeared he would have to rely on some of his other failsafes. Lucius truly needed help.

"One moment, Doctors…" Khan pulled a phaser out of his coat; pointed it at his three newly-awakened peers. "I am going to lower the force field. If you move while it is down, I will not hesitate to fire. Understand?"

Joaquin scowled. "Do you really expect us to believe Khan Noonien Singh would threaten to shoot his own people?"

"In this case, absolutely," Khan nodded. "I wish I did not have to do this, but my safety necessitates the precaution. As a man who dedicated his life to protecting me hundreds of years ago, I am certain you will forgive me."

"Don't count on it."

Khan huffed; retrieved a PADD from his coat; deactivated the force field. None of the new arrivals moved an inch.

...A good start.

The two doctors took a step forward; Khan put up a hand to stop them.

Now for a difficult...but necessary...decision.

"Wait one moment, Doctors," he looked at McCoy, "Hand Gideon the trauma kit, and stay where you are."

The prisoner blinked. "Wait...you're not lettin' me go with?"

Khan raised an eyebrow. "I have not let you out of this room for two weeks. Do I need to remind you why?"

"I...I know," McCoy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I just thought under the circumstances––"

"Lucius needs help as quickly as possible," Khan told him. "And even when you do not have a potential concussion, Doctor Hawkins can run four times faster without you slowing him down. You are staying here."

"I'd rather have Leonard with me," Gideon protested. "I'm still pretty new at using these instruments, and he's far more experienced––"

"I need a doctor to finish Harulf, Joaquin and Zuleika's physical examinations," Khan explained. "If any of them have internal bleeding caused by their time in cryostasis, they will need a skilled surgeon just as badly as Lucius. This is the best way to divide our resources, and you know it."

The man scowled...but sighed; reluctantly took the trauma kit from McCoy.

"You've got this," the prisoner tried to smile. "Just remember TAP-BAD: Tricorder, Analgesia, Protoplaser, Bone knitter, Autosuture, and Dermal regenerator. As long as ya can use those right, you can fix nearly anything."

"Good thing you've been catching me up to speed then," Gideon smirked. "I'll be back soon."

"...Thanks."

The Augment Doctor's smile faded as crossed to the other side of the red lines.

Khan ignored the man's glare; brought the force field back up; slipped the phaser into his pocket.

"You know it's not safe to leave him in there with them," Gideon quietly reminded him. "Not alone. Not when they're still confused about––"

"Oh, for God's sake," Khan rolled his eyes. "One moment..."

Khan fished a second PADD from his coat; connected it to the room's security camera; handed it to Gideon.

"It's a live feed, as you can see. The footage is being automatically saved to a file called Medbay, so if something _does_ go wrong, you should have all the evidence you need to determine who is to blame, and you may show that evidence to _whomever_ you like."

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "And how long has this camera been in place?"

"There's a camera in here?" McCoy craned his head to search for it.

"Do not waste your time," Khan huffed. "I installed it just before the Enterprise arrived in this system. You truly are a heavy sleeper. If you have not found it by now, I doubt you––"

"Near the ceiling, in the corner left of the door," Gideon said flatly. "It's got a good view of the entire room."

The room's occupants all looked towards that corner; Khan could pinpoint the exact moment each of them found the tiny reflective dot of the repurposed PADD camera.

"Quite discreet," Zuleika nodded approvingly. "Easy to miss."

"Goddammit, Khan," McCoy groaned. "I sleep in here! Do you have any idea how creepy-"

"Would you prefer to sleep in my quarters?" Khan raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Because if the thought of sleeping in a room with a camera is simply _that_ unbearable, I can set up a cot at the foot of my bed. Choose wisely."

" _Khan_ ," there was a warning in Gideon's voice.

"It is not like I sit around watching him sleep," Khan argued. "It is a _security_ camera. When no one can be physically present to look after McCoy, that tiny lens reassures me he is still safe. It has _already_ allowed me to return to the medbay in time to help diffuse a number of tense situations. Honestly, did you _really_ think my timing was _that_ perfect?"

Gideon's jaw dropped. "Wait...does that mean you were just standing outside, _watching us_ , when Joaquin went after Leonard?"

"Do you truly think now is the appropriate time to––"

"It's a yes or no question. Answer it, and I'll be on my way."

...The full truth would not put him in the best light.

"I _did_ mean to arrive before they woke up," Khan said calmly. "But Kirk's delay prevented that. You saw how Joaquin reacted to my appearance. Do you _truly_ believe McCoy's situation would have improved had I burst in, mid-attack? Or would I have made the situation far, far worse?"

Gideon glared at him; let out an annoyed breath. "I swear, if Leonard's not in one piece when I get back––"

"He will be. I promise, I won't let anything happen to him. Now go help Lucius."

The doctor looked back worriedly once more at McCoy, swung the trauma kit over his shoulder, and sprinted down the corridor.

Khan waited for Gideon's footfalls to fade; then turned back to his captive.

"Before we continue...I would like an answer to my question, doctor: where are you planning to sleep tonight?"

McCoy's brow pinched with worry. "Come on, Khan. You're not serious about––"

"I am perfectly serious. I intend to take whatever measures are necessary to ensure you survive until your extraction. A room with a camera, or my quarters. Choose."

The doctor cringed; his shoulders slumped; he crossed to his biobed; sat on the edge.

"...Here's fine. I can ignore it."

"Good choice," Khan huffed; turned his attention back to his peers; switched to Punjabi. "Now, I understand if the three of you are unwilling to believe the word of a man who is clearly under duress...but you have also heard both Doctor Hawkins and Basil call me Khan. Neither of them appeared coerced, and yet they followed my orders. If you are willing to listen, I will present my evidence––"

"You're lying," Joaquin accused. " _Maybe_ you could have fooled Gideon and Basil, but there is no way _all_ of our people––"

"I did not fool anyone," Khan scowled. "I _am_ Khan Noonien Singh. After what you did to me on that outpost, I elected to revive the three of you _last_. All the others are awake, and have been convinced of my identity. After you hear my version of events, I am confident you will––"

"I have a better idea," Zuleika rose; started towards McCoy; switched to English. "I understand your name is Leonard?"

The captive smiled nervously at her; nodded. "Yep. Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. It's...um...it's nice ta meet you."

He wiped an apparently sweaty palm on his trousers; held the hand out in greeting.

Zuleika ignored the hand; sat next to him instead; draped an arm around his shoulders.

The startled doctor went rigid; shot Khan a nervous glance.

"Leave him be, Zuleika," Khan ordered. "Hurting him will not––"

"I'm not going to hurt him," the assassin's voice was not convincing. "I'm just getting comfortable. He's going to tell me a story, and I have a feeling it's going to take a while."

" _I_ will explain everything," Khan promised. "If you are willing to listen––"

"I'd prefer to hear your pet's version," the assassin smirked. "Tell me, Lenny: how did a tall drink of water like you end up on this impostor's leash?"

The doctor's lips pressed into a thin line; he met the assassin's gaze.

"...Leonard."

Zuleika blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Leonard, ma'am," McCoy shook his head. "Leonard. Not 'Lenny.' Nobody's called me 'Lenny' since I was ten. If ya want, you can also call me 'Len,' or 'Doctor,' or 'McCoy,' or 'Doctor McCoy.' I'm not picky. Just...not 'Lenny,' if ya wouldn't mind. And I'm not a _pet_."

Zuleika stared...and laughed.

"Oh, you're cute." She patted his cheek. "Now answer my question, or I'll break your jaw."

...They'd prepared for this possibility. It would be alright.

"Go, on, McCoy," Khan ordered. "You know what happened as well as I."

The doctor gave him another worried glance; then nodded. "I...um...I used ta be a doctor for an organization called Starfleet. It's an exploratory and humanitarian armada devoted to the peaceful––"

"We've heard that speech before," Zuleika interrupted. "Starfleet. Federation. An alien-filled Utopia. It's old news. Skip ahead."

"...Alright then." McCoy sighed. "A few years back, there was an attack by a group of aliens that destroyed Vulcan, the home planet of one of the Federation's founding species. They took out a good chunk a' the Federation's fleet before we were able ta stop 'em, and it left a power vacuum in Starfleet's ranks. Which an admiral named Alexander Marcus took full advantage of. While most of us were workin' our asses off tryin' ta rebuild our society and findin' the surviving Vulcans a new home, Marcus became paranoid that a species of aliens called the Klingons were gonna attack us. He secretly started sending out ships ta search for things that could help in his war...and that's how he found you guys. Adrift. In the middle of absolutely nowhere."

"How could we have been adrift?" Joaquin demanded. "When we set out from Earth, we had a perfect trajectory for––"

"There is no such thing as a perfect trajectory, Joaquin," Khan interjected. "Just to leave the solar system, we had to travel through both the Asteroid belt and the Kuiper Belt. With no one awake to manually pilot our vessel through all of those dangers, I believe the Botany Bay was bombarded by a number of small meteors. It was enough to knock us off course."

"And so we were adrift," Zuleika huffed. "Plausible. Fits with what that wimp Alvin told us."

McCoy frowned. "Who?"

"That would likely be the Starfleet officer I left on their outpost," Khan noted. "I thought I might still need him, so I sealed him in an empty room while I searched the places his security codes unlocked. I was attacked before I could come back for him."

"He really was quite cooperative," the assassin smirked. "Especially after I zapped him with that raygun a few times."

"They are called phasers," Khan informed her.

"I really don't care," Zuleika shrugged. "Phaser. Raygun. Either way, the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes every time I zapped him. It was hilarious."

Anger flashed through McCoy's eyes. "And how many times did you torture him with that thing before his heart gave out?"

"Oh, nonono," Zuleika chuckled. "We didn't kill him. He was _far_ too valuable to us for that. He would've been our getaway driver, if Joaquin hadn't botched our escape plan."

"That was not my fault!" Joaquin protested. "How was I supposed to know Kirk could make people vanish into thin air?"

"If you had let _me_ do the talking," Harulf finally spoke up, "They might not have resorted to such bizarre tactics. Besides, _I_ never would have _let go_ of our hostage."

"He was basically unconscious! How was I supposed to know––"

"As interesting a story as I am certain this is," Khan interrupted, "I believe we need to refocus. The sooner you understand what led to your stay on that outpost––"

"I'm sure you've got this whole speech memorized, so why don't we skip around a bit," Zuleika rested her head against McCoy's neck. "Assuming _anything_ you've told us so far is true, how does Lenny fit into this scenario? What did he do to piss you off?"

"It is not _entirely_ his fault," Khan gave her a disapproving look. "Given your earlier reaction to the name Kirk, am I right to assume he is the one who recaptured you after our altercation?"

"You _know_ he was!" Joaquin blurted. "He made Alvin disappear into thin air, then released a gas throughout the compound. We thought it was _poison_! Admit it: you helped him capture us, didn't you?"

"Hardly," Khan huffed. "Kirk and I have a violent history; one in which he and his first officer nearly murdered our entire population. So when I realized I needed a doctor to aid me in my rescue operations, I admit...I was petty. McCoy was once Kirk's best friend."

The three hostile Augments glared at the doctor.

McCoy hunched over; focused on the floor.

"Before those thoughts of revenge I see rattling through your heads spiral _too_ far out of control," Khan continued. "You should know that McCoy is a genuinely good man. He truly had no idea how barbaric and manipulative Kirk could be...But the doctor is still a valuable asset to his captain. In fact, McCoy's greatest crime against me was to use some of my blood to save the life of that ungrateful megalomaniac. Kirk wants his miracle worker back, and as such has been persuaded to––"

"And he actually believes you will give the doctor back?" Harulf snorted. "If you truly are Khan Noonien Singh, then Kirk should know better than to hold out hope."

Khan scowled. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," Harulf smirked. "It is just that the Khan Noonien Singh I knew did not have a reputation for being kind to his prisoners. Honestly, I am surprised that your poor little doctor still has both eyes!"

...The man was testing him; trying to find cracks in his story.

Fortunately, despite Admiral Marcus' best efforts, Khan remembered his past quite well.

"My reputation was one of _mercy_ ," Khan retorted. "I have never disfigured my captives...which is something I cannot say about you, Harulf Ericsson. I give you _one simple_ assassination assignment––to put a _single bullet_ through that politician's heart, and make it look like a robbery––and instead, you stabbed him over sixty times. _Including_ _both_ _eyes_. Tell me: which of us truly _enjoys_ violence?"

Harulf blinked, clearly surprised at the turn of events. "...A bullet would've been too obvious. I was trying to make it look like his wife––"

"He was not married," Khan corrected again. "Nor did he have any angry ex's, or children out of wedlock. He was a genuinely honest man who was over-dedicated to his work. That was why blackmail was not an option when he began uncovering signs of our espionage. Your decision to _butcher_ him alerted his government that his murder was not random; that someone _wanted_ him dead. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep them from finding you, or any of our other operatives, after that disaster?"

"I...I um…" the spy closed his mouth; swallowed. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this––"

"Then stand, by all means," Khan grinned. "Lean against the force field, or stand on your head. I truly do not care. Just tell our colleagues: is what I have said accurate? Be honest."

Harold clenched his jaw. "...Yes. That's what happened."

"Of course it is," Khan's grin widened. "And how would I know that if i were not––"

"So this is really your plan?" Joaquin growled. "You think we'll fall in line after a few anecdotes about-"

"Oh, not at all," the terrorist chuckled. "As McCoy can tell you, each time we revive a group of our people, it can take _hours_ before we begin to trust each other. And given our...history...I expect this will take much longer. But I promise, once you understand everything that has happened, I will lower the force field, and you will be free to go anywhere you want, both aboard the ship and on the moon we are going to call-"

"And what about Lenny?" Zuleika stroked the doctor's scruffy face. "What have you promised him for going along with this charade?"

Khan narrowed his eyes. "...Firstly, it is not a charade. And you will understand that soon. Secondly, the promises I have made to McCoy are of a...personal...nature. He has more than earned what I will give him for safely reviving all of you, and helping to bring Doctor Hawkins up to speed with centuries of medical advancements."

"Really?" Zuleika playfully pinched the doctor's cheek. "Is that all he has to offer? What _exactly_ have you been doing for him, _Lenny_?"

McCoy jerked his head away from her grip. "...Like he just said: I've been providin' medical care. I patched up that knife wound you three gave 'em when he tried ta rescue y'all the first time. And I've helped him make repairs to the ship so we could land without burnin' up in this moon's atmosphere. Also, if ya haven't noticed, I've been helpin' ta wake––"

"Cut the snark," Zuleika ordered. "If you really had _any_ idea who you're talking to, you'd be quivering on the floor like a––"

"I know _exactly_ who ya are," McCoy snapped right back. "Khan's told me all about you. You're Zuleika Walker. An assassin who thinks killin' little kids is a fantastic way ta keep your cover. You also happen ta be one of the few people Khan'd trust with his life, in any century. Which is why he's willin' ta give you a second chance, even after ya nearly killed him a month and a half ago, and why I'm stuck makin' sure your brain didn't crack when you were in cryostasis. So why don't ya just let go of me so I can do my job?"

The assassin stared for a moment...then laughed.

"Oh, I always _did_ like the brave ones...Especially when they come in pretty packages."

McCoy's eyes went wide. "...Okay...I...I'm sorry fer gettin' snippy. You just woke up, and ya've had a lot of info thrown at you. Maybe we should all just take a breath, and––"

"I bet you clean up well, don't you Lenny?" Zuleika brushed the doctor's messy hair away from his face. "Run a comb through that mop of yours; trim the beard, and I bet you'd be downright dashing."

McCoy tried and failed to move away from her. "Look...I...I'm not...I'd appreciate it if ya'd let go of me now. Please."

"Please?" Zuleika chuckled as she pulled him even closer. "That usually works, doesn't it? Just beg like a good little pet, and that impostor backs off. Well, I'm not him, am I?"

Khan bristled. "Stop this, Zuleika. We are better than––"

"If you really want me to stop, you can always lower that forcefield and _make_ me stop." She flattened a palm against McCoy's chest. "Besides, I'm just having a little fun."

...She was baiting him; trying to make him intervene.

A quick glance at Joaquin and Harulf confirmed the assassin's true motives. Her co-conspirators were preparing to spring at him the moment the force field went down. The moment he tried to help...

They were too spread out. He couldn't stun them all.

...Fortunately, he still had another option.

"I doubt Gideon would approve of your definition of _'fun_ ,'" Khan sharply pointed towards the camera. "If you take this deplorable behavior any further, you are going to find yourself ostracized by our community before you even leave this room."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Zuleka demanded.

"Many of our people have taken a liking to McCoy," Khan told them. "As they should: he truly is a good man. One who has endeared himself to the majority of our community. I can only imagine what they would do if something were to happen to him."

"It is not 'our' community!" Joaquin bellowed. "You are not one of us! You are an impostor––"

"Would an impostor know how I broke you out of Nafha?" Khan tilted his head. "How I found you, curled up in a ball in the center of your tiny, titanium-reinforced cell, muttering about a wide-open meadow?"

The terrorist saw shock flash across his old bodyguard's features, before it was quickly masked by indignation. "...Any of my guards could have heard that. It doesn't prove anything."

"All your guards have been dead for hundreds of years," Khan told him. "And that my bodyguard suffered from claustrophobia is not a detail included in _any_ of the grossly inaccurate books written about our empire. Nor that your condition was caused by _months_ spent in an isolation cell after you and a few of the others attempted to escape our childhood 'home.' Nine is a poor age to be that alone."

The blood drained from Joaquin's face.

"You...how...how did you know about that?"

"How indeed," Khan's lips pressed into a thin line. "It is almost as if I am who I claim to be...And I feel I must apologize for putting you in yet another confined space. I had hoped the cryostasis chambers would be the last time it would ever be necessary. But I promise, Joaquin: you will like our new home. The grass stretches for kilometers in every direction, and Basil has designed a home for you with a wide-open floor plan. He will welcome any changes you feel are necessary."

Joaquin fell uncharacteristically silent; turned away; began pacing the room.

...The seed had been planted. He was considering––

"Don't let him into your head," Zuleika ran a hand through McCoy's hair. "He's trying to trick you. This is all some kind of Starfleet ruse to...I'm not sure what...but if they don't call it off, _Lenny's_ going to start losing fing––"

"Mutilating McCoy would be the last mistake you ever make," Khan threatened. "The good doctor is not only doted upon by our pacifist contingent: Benjamin, Florent, Malak and Nur _all_ visit the medbay at every opportunity. They like his sense of humor; his endearing––"

"Stop reciting our names like it means anything," Zuleika rolled her eyes. "You could've forced Gideon or Basil to tell you who we are. The others are all probably either dead, or still in stas––"

"Is that truly a risk you want to take?" Khan demanded. "Imagine for a moment that I _am_ telling the truth: if you maim McCoy, how do you think those four _definitely-not-pacifists_ will react when they find out what you have done?"

Doubt...and fear...pulled at the assassin's cocky expression.

Clearly, her memories were intact.

After a tense moment, she grimaced; let out a sigh.

"...It'd be like kicking a beagle that's been adopted by wolves," Zuleika stood; tousled McCoy's hair; turned to the camera. "No harm done. Smile, Lenny."

McCoy didn't smile. His jaw was clenched; he seemed to be shaking slightly...and he looked close to tears.

"Doctor," Khan frowned. "Are you alright?"

"...I'm fine."

"You do not look fine. Did she hurt you?"

"I barely touched him," Zuleika waived dismissively. "He's just embarrassed. Average men get emasculated so easily. Remb––"

"He is _not_ 'just embarrassed,'" Khan snapped. "No one likes being harassed, Zuleika; especially when they know they have _no hope_ of defending themselves. And after what happened in Jakarta, I am honestly _astounded_ that you would _ever_ openly treat another prisoner in such a manner."

...The assassin turned grey.

"I thought you learned your lesson well over two hundred years ago," Khan continued. "There is a basic level of decency I demanded of my people on Earth, and when I allowed you to escape with us, you _swore_ you would uphold that standard on our new home. Are you going back on _your_ promises, Ms. Walker?"

"...Alright," Zuleika let out a humorless laugh. "I admit, I'm impressed. Not convinced yet...but I'm willing to listen. Now, where the hell are we?"

"A testing ground," Khan replied with a grin. "Officially, an Augment-only colony caught in the empty space between two interstellar superpowers...but this is also place where we can prove to this new alien-infested galaxy that we can live in peace, and not spend the next twenty years slicing each other's throats. And if we can manage that, the universe will be at our fingertips."


	68. Chapter 68

Klingons were scary up close.

Scotty tipped back another glass of fancy champagne; leaned back against the mess hall's rear wall; surveyed the room.

It was full of people he didn't want to piss of. On the Federation side there were admirals high up enough in the Starfleet food chain to knock him back down to First-Year Cadet if he got on their bad side; and on the Klingon end of guest list...

Their average height seemed to be seven feet tall. They were all bulkier than Cupcake, and most of them actually had sharp, pointy teeth.

Most, but not all.

There was a...bizarre...subset of the Klingon delegation that looked almost...Human. It was eerie...but none of the other Klingons seemed to treat them any differently...and Scotty wasn't about to ask questions their new...friends...might not like answering.

Overall, the celebration of the new amendment was going pretty well. Nobody'd been stabbed. Or strangled. Or shot. Nobody'd said anything that could start a war…at least, that Scotty'd heard...

Actually...so far, the party was pretty boring.

...Really boring, if he was being honest.

 _...Excruciatingly_ boring.

It seemed like nobody felt comfortable trying to strike up a conversation across delegation lines. The admirals were making awkward attempts; Uhura had found a Klingon Communications officer to trade notes with...but she and James Kirk-that charismatic bastard-seemed to be the only ones at the party making _any_ headway.

Mostly, the Klingon delegates were huddled on one side of the room; the Federation delegates on the other.

It was like a middle school dance...but with alcohol.

Alcohol that Scotty was taking full advantage of.

Scotty crossed to the bar; poured himself another glass.

Even under normal circumstances, the engineer hated these things. All these parties ever seemed to accomplish were to drag him away from his work, and force him into conversations where he could put his foot in his mouth.

...At least these "formal affairs" weren't quite as bad as they used to be. After a bit of trial and error, Scotty had landed on a method of conversation-aversion he liked to call "The Full Mouth Excuse." He just kept eating and drinking, and every time someone looked like they were going to ask him something, he puffed out his cheeks so it looked like he'd taken too big of a bite of something, and look at them apologetically.

So far, it had made three prospective chattermouths turn to someone else. Out of the four times he'd tried it. Not his personal best, but it was still a better strategy than Keenser's.

Scotty looked up; shook his head in dismay. He could still see the little bastard's foot poking out from the top of a storage shelf.

Technically, Keenser had followed his orders to the letter. He had reported to the party ontime, and in dress uniform.

Nobody'd said he wasn't allowed to hide...and since he'd climbed onto the shelf right before the Admirals and the Klingons walked in, James hadn't had time to order him to come down. Better that none of them even realized he was up there.

...Besides, the wee man wasn't the best diplomat anyway. Strangers didn't always understand his shorthand, and Klingons weren't known for being patient...

This was probably for the best.

Scotty really, really wished he could trade places with Sulu. Scotty might hate sitting in the Captain's chair, but at least he would've been able to keep an eye on the engines while the rest of the crew was trying not to start a war.

...He also wouldn't've minded trading places with Spock. The man had gone with his sister's vessel to pick up a final round of supplies for the Augment colony, along with a guest. They had left the day before, and were...somehow...supposed to be back any minute.

If Scotty couldn't be with his engines, he wanted to take a peak at whatever was under the Discovery's hood. Not standing around, drinking champagne and hoping nobody-

"So...Chancellor Gorkon," a nervous, young voice blurted out. "Did you know zat Russia-ze part of Earth I come from, used to be an empire?"

...Oh no.

Scotty turned to the sound of Chekov's voice. He was standing in front of Chancellor Gorkon. It appeared the young Ensign was trying to start up a conversation...

Scotty admired his guts. And prayed they didn't end up on the floor.

"Really?" Gorkon said politely. "How big was it?"

Scotty saw James excuse himself from a group of Klingons who had been discussing...out of all the topics in the galaxy...pets...and head towards his navigator, clearly ready to bail him out.

"It was...um...fifteen percent of the Earth's land mass," Pavel craned his neck to smile nervously up at the Chancellor. "It may not sound like much now...but at ze time, it was considered enormous. We were a superpower. We Russians also invented solar panels, and yogurt, and-"

"And what happened to the Russian Empire?"

Pavel shuffled. "Well, zere were some revolutions, and some world wars, and zen ze Eugenics war, where nuclear wessels-"

"So the empire fell," Gorkon huffed. "Like so many of our earlier empires...I find it...fascinating...that, much like my people's history, _Human_ history appears to be filled with wars. Yet now...the Federation claims it does everything it can to avoid conflict. What should I make of that?"

"It's...um...well…"

"Times have changed," James broke in as he reached them; Pavel let out a relieved sigh. "The invention of warp drive, and Earth's introduction to the warp-capable societies in the quadrant, dramatically shifted our outlook. Not to mention that those wars nearly destroyed Humanity. We seek peace as a way to survive."

"Well, that's one philosophy," Gorkon huffed. "Thank you for the clarification, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Of course," James smiled as the Chancellor walked away; turned his attention to Pavel.

"I...I'm sorry, 'ceptin. I heard Klingons like bravery, and so I thought...you know the old saying about finding ze biggest guy, and-"

"It was a good idea, Chekov," the captain reassured him. "But next time you try something like that: just promise me you'll make sure you know what you're going to say before your feet start moving?"

"Yes, 'ceptin."

"Good. Now, I think I saw M'Benga and Chapel over by the viewing windows. Go have fun."

The navigator nodded; hurried away.

James came up to the bar; grabbed a glass of water.

Scotty leaned towards him; made sure to keep his voice low."This party's a disaster, James."

"I know," the Captain sighed. "But what can I do? The higher ups insisted on a formal celebration, with all the pomp and circumstance and awkward attempts at smalltalk that go with it. Still...I honestly thought the Klingons would be...I don't know...livelier? They haven't even touched the champagne…"

"Ye sure they can drink it?" Scotty asked. "Maybe there's something in it that's toxic to 'em."

James shook his head. "We gave them a list of what we were planning to serve; they were fine with it."

Scotty shrugged; raised his glass to take another sip. "Maybe they're worried it's poisoned."

"Don't say that so loud."

Scotty jumped at the unexpected voice; turned to see Admiral Cornwell pouring herself a glass of champagne.

"Admiral," James smiled. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"This is my third glass, Kirk. How do you think?"

"Either a lot or not at all."

"Take a guess," the admiral tilted back the glass; turned to Scotty. "I don't think we've been formally introduced, Mister Scott."

The engineer blinked. "You...you know my name?"

"I'm the Federation's Chief Counselor," Cornwell huffed. "After all that's happened, I've got the Enterprise Command Crew files in _paper copy_. And even if I didn't...I'm a friend of Admiral Archer's."

Scotty gulped. "Oh really…and how is he?"

"Doing better," Admiral Cornwell shrugged. "He doesn't leave Earth anymore...but he's doing much better now that his dog's rematerialized. I have to know: what were you thinking?"

Scotty's cheeks turned red; he stared at his shoes. "I...it wasn't my best judgement...But at least the data we gathered on transporter pattern stabilizers because of that wee little beagle might save a lot of lives."

"Accidentally gathered data."

"...A lot of good things are discovered by accident..."

Admiral Cornwell chuckled.

"I can see why he likes you."

Scotty's head shot up. "He said that? He's not still mad?"

"Oh, he's still mad. But his dog's alive, and having puppies. So he's starting to feel forgiving."

...Well...that was something.

Movement near the doorway caught Scotty's eye; Spock entered with a woman the engineer'd never seen before, but who was wearing a captain's insignia, along with three other officers who wore the Discovery's unique uniforms.

"I've gotta go," James said quickly. "Be back soon. Admiral?"

After receiving a permissive nod from Cornwell, the captain hurried over to the new arrivals. After a moment conversing with Spock, the two captains slipped out the mess hall doors; out of sight.

Spock crossed to Uhura; stood behind her, clearly waiting patiently for a break in her conversation with the Klingon communications officer.

"There they are," Admiral Cornwell smirked. "I was starting to think they wouldn't make it. Captain Burnham's not the biggest fan of parties, and from what I understand it normally takes venting engineering of all air to get Stamets to step away for five minutes."

Scotty blinked. "Wait... _Stamets_ is the Discovery's Chief Engineer?"

"That's right."

"But I remember his name from the Academy! His focus was mushrooms!"

"Astromychology," Cornwell specified. "But he's also a really good engineer. After Nero's attack, a lot of people were put in positions they never thought they'd be in. I'm sure you can relate."

...Well, that was true enough. The Enterprise had a Captain who hadn't even graduated from the Academy when he took command. If that could happen, why not have a fungus expert keep a ship running?

"There was a lot of shuffling," Scotty admitted. "I just hope he remembered how to use a wrench."

"Do you want me to introduce you?" Cornwell offered. "You can ask him yourself."

...Why the hell not? He hated parties like these, but he'd actually really wanted to chat up this guy since he first heard about the Discovery's supposed "record speeds."

"Aye...that's a kind offer. Thank you."

As Scotty left his safe little corner of the mess hall, he wondered if he'd miscounted the flukes of champagne he'd had. Him, actively seeking out strangers to talk to...he must be drunk.

But it was too late to turn back. They'd already reached the new arrivals.

"Lieutenant Commander Stamets, Doctor Culber, Lieutenant Tilly...this is Lieutenant Commander Scott, the Enterprise's Chief Engineer."

"Friends call me Scotty," he grabbed the astromychologist's hand; shook it with both of his. "I just have to say, Mr. Stamets: you're the strangest pick for a Chief Engineer I'd ever heard of...but your vessel is a beauty. The ringed saucer section is simply gorgeous. You better be treating her right."

Stamets blinked. "Thank you...Scotty. The Enterprise seems to be a fine ship as well."

"And it was kind of your captain to invite us to the celebration," the red-haired lass...Lieutenant Tilly...said nervously.

"After all the legwork you people put in for this, I woulda chewed James-Kirk-out myself if he hadn't," Scotty searched the room for the captain; realized he still hadn't come back in. "Do any of you happen to know where he went?"

"Captain Burnham needed to talk to him," Doctor Culber said. "They're probably settling your guest into quarters."

...Of course.

James had mentioned the Discovery would be bringing...

Hopefully he could help. Once Leonard was safe again...hopefully.

"That's good," Scotty nodded; refocused on Stamets. "Speaking of settling in...before you 'settle into' the party, I have a bone ta pick with you."

The blond man's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Scotty pointed towards the bar. "Mind if we talk over there for awhile. I promise, I won't be long. I hate small talk, but this is something big."

Stamets glanced at his companions. The shrugged; gestured for him to go. The lass even did an amusing little shooing gesture.

"...Alright then."

The engineers headed over to the bar; Stamets grabbed an empty champagne flute; started filling it up; set it down to scratch at a strange lump under his shirtsleeve.

"So," Stamets picked up his glass again; took a sip. "What's so important you couldn't talk about it in front of Hugh and Tilly?"

"It's not them I'm worried about," Scotty gave a slight tilt of his head towards the Klingons. "I'm just not sure our guests should hear what I'm about to ask you...but I am _dying_ to know, and I'm too drunk to wait: just between us engineers...how in the _hell_ does an astromycologist design an engine that seems to go past Warp Ten?!"

A smile twitched onto the astromychologist's face. "Sorry, Mister...Scotty...that's classified."

"Come on, give a man a hint," Scotty gestured to the bulges under Stamet' sleeves. "Are those how ye do it? Some kind of neural interface that lets ye operate the ship's systems more efficiently?"

Stamets' smile faded; he shuffled; took a sip of champagne. "They're an...interface...yes...but...not what you're thinking. Hugh-my husband, Doctor Culber-he designed them for me after I had an accident. They help with my treatments. Sill itch a bit, but I'm getting used to them."

"Ah," Scotty cringed. "I'm sorry. Space travel is beautiful...but it's got its risks. It's a miracle any of us still have our original fingers…"

"That it is…" Stamets sighed; then brightened. "But just maybe it'll be a little safer after today. If we can get to know the Klingons, there's a chance-"

As if on cue, a Klingon brushed past them with a commandeered horderve tray.

"Pardon me," Scotty muttered.

The Klingon stopped, turned to him, let out a growling laugh..then took the tray over to a cluster of other Klingons.

...Scotty wasn't sure...but he felt like they were making fun of the portion sizes.

"Friend of yours?" Stamets asked as he took a sip of champagne.

"Ignore her," Scotty waived a dismissive hand at the group. "She just doesn't have any taste. James-Captain Kirk-had me give the Chancellor and some of the Council a tour of engineering. The Chancellor was polite enough, but the others-including that lass-burst out laughing when I described the sleek curves of my lady's nacelles!"

Stamets choked on his drink. "Well...maybe Klingon engineers don't have the same...relationships...with their vessels as Starfleet engineers. More utilitarian; less...poetic."

"Aye, maybe that's it," Scotty huffed. "No appreciation for beauty."

"Actually, we find our ships quite beautiful."

Both engineers froze...and turned to see Chancellor Gorkon standing to their right.

How in hell's bells had the man snuck up on them? He was eight feet tall!

...Maybe he'd had too much champagne...probably not a good thing.

"Chancellor!" Scotty choked out. James was going to kill him… "I...I'm sorry if I insulted you. I was just-"

"Our engineers say the same about Federation vessels," Gorkon said with a snort. "So bright and shiny, like a _bat'leth_ that has never tasted battle. They joke that you use your hulls to reflect solar glare into the eyes of your enemies...on the few occasions you actually fight."

...Was the Chancellor trying to bait them?

"...I've never seen that tactic in our books," Scotty said carefully. "But we have had our fair share of scrapes...and we've always come out just fine."

"Yet the Enterprise looks no worse for wear," Gorkon pointed out. "And that, in the end, is the problem. I believe this is an example of what your Lieutenant Uhura would call a 'cultural misunderstanding.' Our ships are designed to show our courage in the face of battle. Every phaser blast-unless it significantly damages the integrity of the hull-is left unrepaired as a testament to our past victories. To your Federation-a society that claims to desire peace above all else-a sleek ship unmarred by battle scars is the pinnacle of achievement. But to us...it marks the vessel of a green crew, yet to be tempered by combat."

...A green crew?

Slander.

Pure slander.

"We have a bloody good pilot." The words were out of Scotty's mouth before he could stop them. "Maybe we're just better at not gettin' hit than you folks are!"

"Mister Scott…" Stamets' voice was tense.

Scotty spared a quick glance around the room. A handful of partygoers were staring at them. They all looked…

Tense was too light a word.

But before the engineer could think of an apology...Gorkon laughed.

"You take pride in your crewmates," the Chancellor gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "And in your vessel. As you should. Our tastes may be different, but I admire your conviction."

...Scotty wasn't sure...but he thought he heard one of the Admirals whisper, "Oh, thank God…"

He agreed. Wholeheartedly.

"Th...thank you, Chancellor," Scotty said. "Now, I think we've wasted enough of your time, so-"

"Not at all," Gorkon snorted. "I believe my people's reputation as warriors is intimidating your colleagues. Many of them-especially some of your superiors-seem like they would rather tell me what I want to hear than the truth. I prefer the company of soldiers over diplomats."

Scotty cringed. "Well...I...um...I wouldn't exactly call myself a soldier...I'm not exactly...well-"

"Mister Scott's always been one to speak his mind," Admiral Cornwell said as she walked over. "It's gotten him in his share of hot water over the years, but we need honest people in our ranks."

...God bless that woman. She knew when to bail a couple of engineers out.

"I...was hoping that was a trait our societies both appreciated," Gorkon paused; his expression darkened. "Tell me something, Admiral...in the spirit of honesty: the process by which Khan and his people were...made...Does the Federation still retain that knowledge?"

Cornwell cringed. "Honestly...Yes and no. Our records from Khan's time period are incomplete. So much was destroyed during and after the Eugenics Wars. But from what we've been able to gather, both from historical accounts and Khan's own testimony, the Augments just have a few tweaked genes that make them predisposed to heightened strength, speed, and intelligence. So...speaking purely _theoretically-_ "

"The Federation could make an army of people like Khan," the Chancellor finished. "And now another question: why haven't you?"

The admiral blinked. "What?"

"Why has Humanity not turned itself into one of the most formidable species in the galaxy? Why do you not all have Khan's augmentations? From what I am understanding, you have had the capability for hundreds of years, and yet I have never even heard of a Human fighting like Khan."

"Oh..." Cornwell drew a deep breath. "That's because we banned the procedure."

"Why in the name of Kahless would you do that?"

"Because on Earth, the process that created Khan is heavily linked to a philosophy known as Eugenics," Cornwell explained. "In Earth's Twentieth Century-the time Khan and his people come from-many Humans thought that things like crime, disease, and poverty were hardwired into a person's genetic code. Eugenicists claimed their philosophy was scientific; they ignored all socioeconomic and sociopolitical reasons for Human behaviors, and they used Eugenics to justify bigotry based on nothing more than the color of someone's skin, or perceived level of intelligence, or their religion, or...you get the idea."

"And then Khan and his Augments were created," Gorkon surmised. "They fed off this philosophy, and used it to justify the formation of their empire. Which led to the nuclear war which features so prominently in the Federation histories you sent me."

"And when we came out the other side of those wars, we banned genetic modifications," Cornwell nodded. "All the super-strength and heightened intelligence in the galaxy can never turn someone into a good person; it took almost wiping Humanity out before we really realized this. And now, the only exceptions to these laws are if the genetic modification is being used to save someone's life, or to help a Human parent to have genetically-compatible offspring with a partner from another species."

"And those are both very recent changes," Stamets scratched at the lump under his sleeve again. "When the Federation was formed, even those alterations were illeg-"

"Chancellor Gorkon!"

Scotty tensed; turned at the sudden interruption; saw James crossing towards them from the mess hall doorway. Captain Burnham came in just after him, but she split off; headed for Uhura and Spock.

The engineer glanced around the room. A few of the admirals looked pissed over the captain's loud re-entrance to the party...

...An entrance they wouldn't've even noticed if the place had something more than ancient Earth and Vulcan instrumentals playing in the background…Seriously: which admiral had picked the music?

"Yes, Captain?" Gorkon replied. "What is it?"

"I just had an...interesting..discussion with Captain Burnham, and an old friend." A glint of amusement shone in James' eyes as he stopped next to them. "And I think there is something I need to ask you...if you don't mind."

"I will answer if I can."

"Alright…"James took a deep breath in; let it out. "This party we're throwing...are you enjoying it?"

"...It is a momentous day," Gorkon...deflected. "One where a celebration is fitting."

"Yes…" the captain said slowly. "But is this the kind of celebration Klingons normally have? What makes a Klingon party...fun?"

"...Ah," Gorkon said flatly. "Did one of my people say something to you?"

"No," James shook his head. "Captain Burnham's done a bit of research into Klingon culture...pretty much everything she could get her hands on, given our species limited interactions...but she hadn't found anything on Klingon celebrations. Until she had a conversation with a...guest...she picked up for us the last time the Discovery disembarked. Over his lifetime, he's apparently managed to visit Qo'noS on...business...on multiple occasions. And he says that Klingon parties are...well...not like this."

Chancellor Gorkon's ridged brow furrowed. "And what did he say?"

"That your people like loud celebrations. Full of alcohol, and revelry, and dancing, and singing. Lots of singing."

"I...do not know how this man gathered this intelligence…" Gorkon gruffed...then sighed. "But he is correct. Klingons live for combat, but that also means that we are very aware of how close death is at all times. We prefer celebrations where we feel alive. Celebrations that _songs_ can be written about."

"Dammit," Admiral Cornwell muttered. "Chancellor...why didn't you tell us?"

"My people are fighting a war," Gorkon said carefully. "I did not want to unravel our negotiations because Federation species prefer a...different...form of celebration."

"But we're bored out of our minds too!" Cornwell told him. "Our records on your society are _less_ than limited. We thought when you didn't say anything about the party's itinerary, that this was the way normal Klingon social events went! We would've made changes if you'd asked!"

"I don't understand," Gorkon frowned. "You...your people don't just stand around, talking, for entertainment?"

"Sometimes," James corrected. "But not always. Not if nobody's having fun. Vulcans and Tellerites usually prefer these parties, but there's all sorts of species in the Federation! Some Humans, just for an example, have been known to put on glow-in-the-dark body paint, and dance to music loud enough to nearly make their ears bleed."

"And others get roaring drunk, and sing karaoke," Scotty piped in, ignoring the light elbow nudge from Stamets. "Now that's my kind of party!"

"Drunk?" Gorkon gaped. "From what I understood, the consumption of alcohol in your society is highly frowned upon."

"Who told you we don't drink at these things?" Scotty laughed; held up his half-empty glass. "I've been drinking champagne all night!"

"That's _alcohol_?" Gorkon blinked. "I thought...the list you sent said it was made of something called 'grape juice.'"

" _Fermented_ grape juice," Scotty corrected. "Grape juice that can knock you on your arse if ye drink too much of it...pardon the language...Some Federation species cannae drink alcohol, and the Vulcans don't care for the stuff, but it's been a staple of the Human diet since before we first chiseled letters intae clay!"

"...Fermented…" Gorkon repeated...then burst out laughing. "Our computers read 'fermented' as 'concentrated!'"

"Then I guess it's a good thing our Comm officers are becoming such good friends," Scotty gestured to where Uhura seemed to be introducing Spock and Captain Burnham, who now standing by her side, to her new favorite Klingon. "They'll have all the bugs in the system sorted out before we even crack open the next bottle!"

"A _bottle_ will not be enough," Gorkon huffed. "Once my people realize there is alcohol after all, they will all want to try this...champagne. Although I believe many would prefer our own beverage. Out of loyalty, if nothing else."

"Well, when it comes to alcohol, I'm the least loyal man around," James joked. "If you want to bring some of whatever you all normally drink over, I'll give it a try...just as long as it won't send me to the medbay or the morgue."

Gorkon tilted his head. "Are you sure about that, Captain?"

"I'm a Starfleet officer. We explore strange new foods all the time. I think I can handle it."

Gorkon snorted. "A bold man. Alright then...Officers, I believe we have been so concerned about offending each other, that we ended up offending each other!"

Scotty tried to laugh at this...but wasn't sure if it was appropriate.

"Yeah," James laughed. "I think so. Now I've still gotta clear it with the admirals before I change tonight's itinerary, but I think-"

"No asking, Kirk." Admiral Cornwell interrupted as she started backpedaling towards the Federation delegates. "I'm _telling_ them what we're doing right now. And if any of our people give you lip about this, tell them to come to me. I'm giving you a direct order: Captain James Tiberius Kirk: make this party into a goddamn rager. All the trimmings. Fast as you can."

"Yes, Admiral!" James grinned; turned to Chancellor Gorkon. "I have a few ideas for the Federation side of the festivities; I hope you have some as well?"

Gorkon nodded; turned to a cluster of his people. "Commander Rollar, have two casks of fresh _gagh_ and eight barrels of blood wine brought over from my ship. The best vintage we have."

"Yes, Chancellor." The klingon saluted and hurried off.

...Wait...Had Gorkon just said...

"Blood...wine?" Jim nervously blurted out what Scotty had been thinking.

The Chancellor turned back around. His teeth looked somehow pointier than before. "Don't think you can stomach it after all?"

"No no, I'll still try it. I just...wasn't expecting that."

"It is a warrior's drink," Gorkon said loudly; then he leaned in...and said much quieter: "We love to say that it is made from the blood of our enemies. Wonderful propaganda...which wasn't propaganda a few centuries ago ago. But in truth, space travel has changed the nature of our society as well. Enemies killed in space cannot, generally, be used to make blood wine, and so to keep the supply running when our planetary wars ended, the High Council authorized the switch to targ blood. They're like your...pigs...on Earth. It is not sentient, but it is delicious, and that is all we have aboard."

James did seem to relax...a little...at that. Scotty knew the captain wasn't overly fond of eating things other species "claimed" weren't sentient...but they'd also been in enough tight diplomatic spots to know that it's unwise to refuse any food or drink they're offered unless it could physically harm them. Which, unfortunately, didn't sound like the case here.

"Then I'll give it a try, James said with a forced smile. "I'll start making our arrangements momentarily."

"I cannot wait to see what you come up with," Gorkon nodded...and walked away.

"Well…" Stamets finally spoke up once the Chancellor was out of earshot. "That was...uncomfortable."

"Sorry, Mister Stamets," Scotty cringed. "I dinnae mean to-"

"Not your fault," Stamets insisted. "You couldn't've known he'd come up to us...but if you don't mind...I'd better head over to my husband. Hugh's been staring at me like I might spontaneously combust ever since the Chancellor popped over here."

"Oh, then by all means," Scotty waived him off. "'T'was good ta meet you, Mister Stamets. I hope you'll consider letting me pick your brain...should your work ever stop being 'classified.'"

"You'll be my first call."

The engineers shook hands again; then Stamets sped away.

James turned towards the bar; motioned with his head for Scotty to do the same. When they were both facing away from the crowd, the captain's smile dropped.

"...Blood...wine…"

"I bet it's better than it sounds," Scotty reassured him. "After all, there's a traditional dish back in Scotland called black pudding. It's a sausage made with cooked blood...animal blood...so..."

"Do you think they serve it cold?" Jim asked nervously. "Or hot? Room temperature? I...I'm not sure what I'm rooting for here."

"If it makes you feel better, I'll drink it with you," Scotty offered.

"You sure about that?"

"Why not?" The engineer huffed. "We'll be the first Humans since...well, since Admiral Archer...to drink Klingon booze. I might even get a footnote in whatever books get written about today."

"Books?"

"James. Think about it."

The captain's eyes widened slightly; he shrugged. "I guess you're right. I've been so caught up in making sure everything turns out okay that I haven't really even thought about...Somebody, someday, is definitely gonna write a book about what's happened here, aren't they?"

"Probably more'n one."

"...Probably," the captain agreed. "Well, let's just hope they get the facts straight...Now if you'll excuse me, Scotty...I need to slip away for a few minutes."

"Grabbing some mouthwash for the blood wine?" Scotty was only half joking. He was a wee bit nervous himself.

James shook his head; a small, genuine smile crept back onto his lips.

"Scotty...I was just _ordered_ to throw a rager. I'm grabbing my boombox."


	69. Chapter 69

If ever there were a time for celebration, this was it.

Khan let out a contented sigh as he leaned back against a support beam of their emergency shelter. The foundation was in place, along with the framework for the walls. The rest would go up in a few days. But for now, the smooth, open patch of concrete was alive with music, and the jubilant dancing of seventy-

"Are ya sure you don't want anything ta eat?"

Khan blinked; looked to his left. McCoy was half-sitting against a metal picnic hall table, treasuring a bowl of fresh fruit. The tables, like many of their hand-me-down supplies, were all emblazoned with Starfleet insignia that Khan had not yet taken the time to scrape away. There were more important matters than a coat of paint.

The doctor had donned a deep green button-up for the festivities. It was not as formal as the suit Khan was wearing for the event...but he had to admit that the shirt, combined with the planetshine from the gas giant above them, brought out the green in McCoy's hazel eyes.

"I am just fine, McCoy," Khan huffed. "Your concern is commendable, but I am not hungry."

...And although he trusted most of his people...an Emperor could never be too careful. He would need to prepare all of his own food; to only eat it if he were certain no one else had gone near it.

But McCoy would be alright eating with the others. No one here had anything to gain by poisoning him.

"If ya say so," the doctor shrugged. "S'not like ya need ta maintain a heightened metabolism or anythin.'"

That made Khan chuckle. "I might have something later. Just to ease your mind."

McCoy snorted; rolled his eyes; went back to watching the dancing crowd.

Khan had cobbled together a set of portable speakers; connected them to a Federation powercell, as well as his doctor's antique music player. It played a mix of songs, both from McCoy's time as well as their own. His people found the new music fascinating, but some of them actually sang along...sometimes with what looked suspiciously like tears in their eyes...when a song from home began to play.

They needed this. With the treaty signed and the moon officially theirs in every way, their fates for the foreseeable future belonged here. This party was an acceptance of their new life; of the price they paid for independence...and a promise that they would make the most of it.

...He should think of a name for the place. Something fitting. Something...hopeful.

But for now, he would just enjoy the celebration.

Next year, there would be fireworks. Or something even more spectacular. He could invent something himself: perhaps some kind of three-dimensional light projections to commemorate-

"Are you two just going to hide in the corner all night?"

Khan glanced to his right; saw Aiko striding up to them.

It took a great deal of effort for him to suppress the urge to cringe. During their preparations for the celebration, the professor had found one of the Starfleet dress uniforms in storage; fallen in love with it. It fit her well, and as their supplies were still relatively limited, Khan had not objected to her decision to keep it...but it still unnerved him to see one of his people wearing the uniform of their enemy.

"I am simply savoring the moment," Khan told her with a smile. "I have worked so long for this...and now, for the moment, all I wish to do is stand back and witness the fruits of my labor."

...Besides, standing against a pillar was a good tactical position to be in. No one could sneak up on him here. No one could...

These were his people. If there were any people in the galaxy he could trust…

...But he could not be too careful.

"Alright, be that way," the professor huffed; turned to McCoy. "What about you?"

The doctor blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Aiko grinned; held out her hand. "Come on, Len: show us some Twenty-Third Century dance moves!"

"Well...um…" McCoy looked nervously at Khan.

...On Earth, Aiko had been a linguist; a professor at the University of Delhi. She had aided their war effort by expediently teaching their operatives the languages they needed to know for their missions. And although she was as strong and capable of fighting as any of the Augments...Aiko was one of the pacifists. She did not mean the doctor any harm.

"Oh, go on, McCoy," Khan rolled his eyes. "Just stay in sight."

His doctor...beamed.

It was a...pleasant...vision. One Khan instantly wished he'd been able to induce far more often in their time together.

...A time that was coming to an end.

"Alright," Unfortunately, McCoy turned away from him; set his fruit on the table; took Aiko's offered hand. "I'm not the best dancer, but I do know a couple ya might like. This first one's called the Andorian Scuffle."

Aiko smirked. "Do you mean 'shuffle?'"

"You heard me."

Khan watched as his doctor demonstrated what looked like a clumsy fusion of the cha cha and vogue.

"What the hell is Leonard doing?" Gideon said, amused, as he approached Khan.

"The Andorian Scuffle, apparently," Khan huffed. "He seems to be enjoying himself."

"Good for him," Gideon smiled approvingly. "Thank you for letting him come down here. It just didn't seem right, leaving him alone in the medbay with a party going on."

"Without McCoy, we would have no reason to celebrate," Khan said simply. "His presence on the Botany Bay over the past two and a half months proved vital to our people's survival...in more ways than one. He deserves a little revelry."

...And the look on McCoy's face when he discovered there was going to be a celebration had been…well...The doctor only said "Oh..." But those kind, hazel eyes of his had widened; glanced down at the shackle encircling his ankle...and turned morose.

After a moment of reflection, Khan concluded that it wasn't that great of a risk to let McCoy join them. Not when half the colony was enamoured with the man, and the other half was more than willing to tolerate him as long as he was under Khan's protection. And showing the doctor that small kindness would mollify some of the Augments that had loudly objected to McCoy's continued confinement to the medbay.

All in all, a good decision. One that had made his doctor's eyes light up like-

"He deserves more than a little fun," Gideon huffed. "That man has spent weeks waking us up, and trying to turn half our population into field medics and nurses. Can't have too many healing hands in a place like this, but Leonard's been pushing himself pretty hard."

Khan nodded in agreement. "He is still _focusing_ his efforts on you, I hope?"

"Oh, absolutely. He's basically just teaching the others modern First Aid, but for me he's going in depth with the specialty equipment. We...spent _four hours_ today going over the procedure for those...artificial wombs...the Federation sent us. I understood perfectly how to do it all within the _first_ hour, but Leonard is nothing if not thorough."

...Of course he would emphasise that equipment. The doctor was truly ashamed of what his people had done...

"He is a diligent man," Khan said. "And a...compassionate...one. I am...grateful...that he has done everything he can to help us with our...situation."

Gideon winced; took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he was careful and clear. "Yeah...the radiation from that pulsar really did a number on us. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that most of us just got...sterilized...instead of having our cryotubes completely shut down. We're...lucky...the Federation has the technology to circumvent that...disaster."

Khan almost snorted...but stopped himself; gave a stiff nod instead. There were too many of their people in earshot for either of them to make their true feelings known.

They needed to maintain the lie.

It had been necessary to tell Doctor Hawkins the real story behind their people's stolen ability to naturally reproduce. Had Khan not told him, the doctor would inevitably have discovered the missing organs during their people's post-revival examinations...and informed the affected women of the procedure. Which would have caused far more trouble than they could currently afford.

Hawkins had been disgusted by Khan's revelation, and had nearly refused to withhold information from his patients...but in the end, he had understood how many of their people, armed with the knowledge of what had been done to them, would try to leave their moon; to take revenge on the Federation. And as much as Khan fully intended to punish the perpetrators of their attempted genocide once he learned who they were...for now, the survival of their people depended upon their ability to uphold the deal they had made with the Federation and Klingon Empire. A mass exodus of Augments hell-bent on vengeance would doom them all.

Khan was hopeful the secret could be kept until his people were settled in; until they had already begun to raise the children born in the Federation's artificial wombs. Only three people on the entire moon knew the truth...and that number would shrink to two in three day's time.

...Feeling a sudden...wistful pang...Khan shifted his attention back to that third man.

The music had changed; Aiko was now teaching a laughing McCoy the...technically classical...dance that accompanied the _Macarena_. The song had been at the height of its popularity when they left Earth, so Khan had ensured it was included, multiple times, in the playlist he created for the party. It made his people cheer whenever it came on.

"It is probably best that McCoy cannot understand the lyrics," Khan remarked, more to himself than to Gideon. "He can simply focus on enjoying the dance, oblivious to the story behind it."

"Blissful ignorance," Gideon's tone was still tense. "We've got a lot of that going around...but I guess you're right. Leonard deserves to have some fun. He's had more than enough to deal with here, and he's going to have a lot more to go through once he's back with-"

"Yes," Khan cut the doctor off abruptly. "He will. But we still have...he still has three days until that happens. Let's just enjoy the time we have left."

Gideon raised an eyebrow; opened his mouth...then closed it again; sighed; shrugged. "That...sounds like a plan. Now if you'll excuse me…?"

The Augment doctor left Khan's side to visit with Basil. The moderately inebriated engineer greeted Gideon with the exuberance one would expect were this the first time the two men had seen each other in years.

...Given that they had been separated for centuries, and that their current workloads were not subject to very much overlap...this was very nearly the case. Many of his people were still reconnecting; still nurturing relationships, both platonic and romantic, that had been put on hold for centuries.

Khan scanned the crowd. Joaquin and Suzette were only a layer of clothing away from their...dance...becoming something truly obscene. But they appeared to be having fun, and nobody seemed to mind. Lucius was testing out his still relatively newly-healed leg by doing an impressive moonwalk. The irony that he was performing that dance on an actual moon was likely not lost on him...and was likely a key factor in his choice.

He did not observe the crowd long before he found himself refocusing on McCoy. Which was likely for the best. Even though the risk of anything happening to the man was miniscule in this situation, Khan needed to be vigilant. For the sake of his people's future, absolutely nothing bad could happen to McCoy in the short time he...that they had left with him.

The Emperor drew in a deep breath; let it out as he watched the doctor dance.

...After all they had been through, the thought of never seeing McCoy again was...surprisingly upsetting. And that was what would happen in three days. A Federation shuttle would land, and take his doctor back to their enemies. Forever.

...Then they would "deprogram" him.

They would twist Khan's every kindness into something cruel; strip every interaction of its context…Force the doctor to see the events of the past two and a half months as they did.

They would make McCoy hate him again. It was only a matter of time.

...Perhaps he could find a reason to postpone the doctor's release. Just for an extra day or two. A little more time might allow him to fortify Len...McCoy against those assaults; make him strong enough to resist Starfleet's efforts to undo his education. If they only had more time, perhaps he could even-

A ball of fire erupted at the far end of the shelter.

His people stopped in their tracks; shock and disbelief freezing them in place.

...No.

They wouldn't...they knew he had bombs in place on Earth! Why would they-

Another explosion. A short distance from the first.

People started screaming.

Some scrambled for cover; others just flopped to the ground; covered their heads with their hands.

Khan ducked under the metal table; pulled a phaser out from a holster under his suit jacket; searched the skies for signs of the enemy ship.

Was it the Klingons? Or the Federation? Which side was attacking them? Which side had broken their word? Which side had decided the deaths of thousands of civilians was better than letting his people live in peace?

Or was it a rogue vessel? One of the admirals, or Klingon councilmembers, who could not bear the thought of an Augment colony?

There was no way to tell. No way to know if anyone above them was attempting to stop the assault.

Their defensive weapons were still on the Botany Bay. There had been so much else to do, and he hadn't thought either side would _dare_ to attack while the under the flag of truce. All Khan had on him were his phaser and a handful of knives.

Their emergency shelter was only half complete. The work stalled in favor of moving their population out of the cold, rusting Botany Bay, and into real houses, as fast as possible. And even if it were ready, it was for protection against _natural disasters;_ not the focused, continuous weapons fire of monsters hellbent on their destruction!

His people were sitting ducks.

He couldn't stop the barrage in time. He couldn't…

He should never have dropped that cloak! He should've sacrificed nineteen of his people to save the rest! Now, they were all going to die, incinerated like ants! The last thing he would hear would be the screams of his friends, and the loud, concussive blasts of the...

Of the...bombardment...

...Besides the panicked sounds of his people, and the now inappropriately playful beat coming out of the speakers...it was quiet.

...Where were the energy blasts? Where...

There was no third explosion. Or a fourth. Or...

Those blasts had not been accompanied by flashes of light from the sky, had they? It...it hadn't been phaser fire. Or disruptors. Or...

This wasn't an attack from above.

This...this was a distraction. Created by someone on the ground.

There were only a few reasons someone would do that.

"Joaquin!" Khan shouted urgently. "Suzette! Nur! Zulieka! To me!"

He climbed atop a nearby metal table; his guards scrambled up around him in a protective ring as he scanned the crowd for signs of aggression.

No one tried to attack. Everyone just looked...scared.

The music was still playing. Now it was a sweet, slow love song that did not fit the gathering's sudden shift in tone any better than the song before it. The leader thought of turning it off, but it felt like a waste of precious time.

"Is anyone hurt?" Khan called out to his people. "Check yourselves; your neighbors. Make sure no one is hurt."

The Augments looked around; patted themselves down. Fortunately, no one seemed to have been close enough to the explosions to be harmed. Khan suspected that was not an accident.

Whoever had done this hadn't wanted to kill them, had they? They had just wanted them to scatter.

But who? And why?

Was this an attempt on his life? If so, the assassin had already wasted their opportunity. The moment of panic was over. His guards were already by his side, and-

"Khan!" Gideon looked up at him from the crowd; he sounded close to panic. "Khan...where...where's Leonard?"

The emperor's heart stopped.

...No. No, it couldn't...

Khan scanned the crowd again; searched for his captive's face.

He wasn't there.

...Maybe he was hiding. The man had always been skittish. Maybe...

"McCoy!" Khan called out as calmly as he could. "McCoy, it's alright. There's no need to hide! Come here!"

...No answer.

Just a murmuring from the crowd. Confusion. Worry.

McCoy had been nowhere near the blasts. Khan had been watching him when the first one went off! So where could he have gone? What was keeping him from-

"Khan…" Zuleika said quietly. "I just did a headcount, and...I don't see Harulf anywhere. Do you?"

Needles of ice pricked in Khan's stomach.

...No...

He...He wouldn't dare…

"Harulf Ericcson!" Khon bellowed. "Ericcson! Step forward immediately!"

...Nothing. Just looks of shock...and outrage...as his people comprehended what Khan was implying. What he couldn't believe he'd let happen.

Of course someone would've thought to try this. Someone who felt underappreciated. Someone who felt like they could lead far more than a small colony, and thought they would never get the chance if they stayed...and who knew the ships above them would be gone in three day's time.

It wouldn't work. It couldn't work. But Harulf would try anyway. He would try, and...

If Khan wasn't fast enough, McCoy would die screaming.


	70. Chapter 70

It wasn't his fault.

It had all happened so fast, Leonard still wanted to believe it just a nightmare. That he'd wake up back in the medbay any second. That he'd...

But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

He just couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. Khan had _told_ him to stay in sight! And yet at the first sign of trouble, he'd run off with...

No.

That wasn't right.

He'd _frozen_ when the first explosion went off. He'd _stayed put._ _Stayed in sight._

...Then the second one blew, and people started screaming, and running for cover, and Khan dove under that table...and a hand grabbed Leonard's; pulled him away from the unfinished, far-too-exposed emergency shelter; towards the cluster of houses Basil and the others had painstakingly cobbled together.

In the chaos, Leonard had gone with him without thinking, _trusting_ that Khan's people were just trying to bring him somewhere a little safer, because who the hell would try to _kidnap_ him with Khan less than fifteen feet away?

Apparently, Harulf would. As soon as they were out of sight of the crowd, the bastard'd wrapped an arm around Leonard's throat; clamped another over his mouth and nose.

He'd tried to fight; tried to break free, but Harulf knew what he was doing, and the world had gone dark too fast for the panicked doctor to do much of anything.

He couldn't've been out for more than a few seconds, but it was enough time for Harulf to tear off the sleeves of Leonard's dress shirt; to gag him with one; to start tying his hands behind his back with the other.

The Augment threatened to crush his throat if he made a sound. Leonard knew better than to test him.

And now the doctor was draped across Harulf's back, trying to keep his dinner down as every sprinting step the asshole took sent a shoulder into his stomach.

In the distance, Khan was calling his name. He was telling him there was no need to hide; to come to him.

...Oh God. What if Khan thought he was trying to run away? What if he got mad, and…

This wasn't his fault. It _wasn't_! Khan would have to understand. This wasn't...

Khan bellowed out Harulf's name, and the Augment ran even faster.

Why was Harulf doing this? What had he done to piss the guy off? They'd barely even talked! Why was he...

They reached the open lower airlock of the Botany Bay; bolted inside.

Where the hell did he think he was going? Was he planning to fly the ship away or something? That'd break the treaty! Somebody'd shoot it down well before it ever left the atmosphere!

Yet as far as Leonard could tell, that seemed to be his plan. They were heading towards the bridge.

...Did Harulf even know how to fly the ship? Did he think _Leonard_ knew how? Was _that_ why he'd grabbed him?

If that was it, the guy was in for a rude awakening.

And Leonard was screwed.

The bridge, like the rest of the Botany Bay, was completely deserted. Every single Augment had gone to that party. The colony's entire population clustered into that empty patch of cement...

Whatever Harulf's plan was, he'd picked the right time to do it.

Leonard hoped nobody'd gotten hurt in the explosions. He had no way to tell how careful Harulf'd been in placing...whatever he'd used to make those fireballs, and these people had been through enough.

His abductor slammed the button by the bridge door; it hissed closed. Then the Augment tore the cover off the control panel; ripped out the ancient wiring.

"That should buy us a little more time," Harulf muttered.

Time for what, exactly?

Abruptly, the Augment set Leonard back on his feet; grabbed the knot at the back of the gag; scowled at the captive.

"No screaming."

Leonard tried to shake his head. Like screaming would do much good.

Harulf loosened the gag; pulled it out of the doctor's mouth. "Now, tell me: how do I contact the Enterprise?"

...What?

"Why do ya wanna-"

"I didn't ask if you had questions!," Harulf hissed. "How to I contact Kirk's ship?"

...Was this some kind of rescue attempt? Had the Federation made a deal with this guy to-

The Augment grabbed a fitsful of Leonard's hair; sent needles of pain through the doctor's scalp.

Didn't feel like a rescue.

"Center console," Leonard gritted out. "Press the green button, then tap the panel on the touchscreen that says 'callsigns.' The Enterprise is NCC-1701."

"Thank you, McKay."

"It's McCo-"

Harulf stuffed the gag back in Leonard's mouth; tied it tight enough to cut at the corners of his lips.

Leonard let out a groan in protest, but his captor ignored him; dragged him over to the center console; pressed the green button; found the Enterprise's callsign; tapped it.

A moment later, Hikaru Sulu's confused face flicked onto the monitor.

Immediately, the Lieutenant tensed; his eyes went wide. "What the hell are you d-"

"Where is Captain Kirk?" Harulf demanded. "I want to speak with Kirk. Now."

"...The Captain is engaged in diplomatic duties," Sulu's lips pressed into a thin line. "I am Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, current Conn officer. What are you doing with Doctor McCoy?"

"I remember you," Harulf ignored the pilot's question. "You were on the bridge when we had Alvin...Maybe you're all I need."

"And what do you need?"

"The device you used to extract Lieutenant Alvin Kim from our holding facility," Harulf said. "Do you have authorization to use it?"

Leonard froze.

...Oh no.

Nonononono...

He didn't know. He didn't...He thought they could just...

...So this was how he was gonna die. After all this…

He'd always known the transporters would be the death of him. He just hadn't expected it to be because-

"I...We can't...beam you off that moon." Sulu said slowly. "It's not-"

"Oh, just get Kirk," Harulf snapped. "I cannot waste time arguing with you."

"You don't understand," Sulu insisted. "It's not a matter of authorization. We can't-"

Haurlf punched Leonard in the stomach.

His breath whistled out through his nose; Leonard wheezed in pain as he fought to suck air back in.

"Stop!" Sulu sounded scared. And pissed. Very pissed. "Look, I'll have you patched through."

"Work fast," Harulf pulled out a knife; the metal glinted in the light. "And the next time I hear the word 'can't,' McKay loses a chunk of flesh."

...McCoy. His name was McCoy...

"I said I'd get him, didn't I?" Sulu scowled as he pressed a button on the Command chair. "Bridge to Captain Kirk. Captain, you need to get to a display immediately."

...Nothing happened.

"Captain?" Worry started creeping into Sulu's voice; he pressed another button. "Bridge to Commander Spock, can you hear me?

Were...were they ignoring them?

"Stop wasting time," Harulf demanded.

"I'm not," Sulu said coldly. "He should've answered...I don't know why...Ensign Bohm, put us on Red Alert."

"Sir?"

"Do it."

The bridge darkened; a red light pulsed through the room.

For a tense moment, nothing else happened, and then...

" _Sulu, what's happening up there?!"_

Sulu drooped with relief at the sound of Kirk's voice; nodded to Ensign Bohm; the red alert lights flashed green; then turned off. "Captain, you didn't answer your my hail. I thought the comm system was down. This was the fastest way to reach you."

" _...The music must've been too loud…"_ Kirk sounded embarrassed. _"I never even heard my communicator go off. What's going on?"_

"You need to patch into the bridge's viewscreen," Sulu urged. "There is an Augment demanding to talk to you, and he has Doctor McCoy."

" _What?!"_

"You heard me."

" _I-I'm coming! I'm…"_

There was a pause, then the bridge disappeared, and Kirk's...glitter-coated face...appeared onscreen.

It almost looked like he was at an Academy party. There was a disco ball spinning in the background; clusters of Starfleet and Klingon officers were frozen in place on what looked like a...dance floor. Leonard could see Keenser sitting on Scotty's shoulder; a little ways away, Chekov was standing, wide-eyed, next to M'Benga and Chapel. Uhura and Spock were standing right next to Kirk, as was a scowling Chancellor Gorkon.

...Why did they all have to be there?

Leonard knew what was coming. He knew how this was going to end. Why did they all have to see it? Why did...

He never should've gone down to that party. He never should've left the medbay! Why had he been so stupid? Why-

"Bones..." Kirk whispered; glared at the Augment. "What are you doing with him? What-"

"Finally," Harulf grinned. "Captain Kirk, I trust you remember me?"

Kirk scowled; nodded stiffly. "You're Harulf Ericsson. Of course I remember you. You were one of the Augments who tortured Lieutenant Kim-"

"And you remember what I'm capable of," Harulf hummed. "Keep that in mind, and know that I am not _nearly_ as hapless as that fool Joaquin: nothing you say or do is going to make me let go of McKay until you do what I want."

...Was that asshole saying his name wrong on purpose? Or did he really not realize...

Not the point. Bigger problems.

"And what is it that you want?" Kirk asked bluntly.

"I want _off_ this godforsaken moon," Harulf sounded almost pleading. "I was out of favor with Khan when we left Earth; I _know_ he only let me on the Botany Bay because he took an oath to save any Augment who swore their fealty. And I swore it, because I thought Earth was doomed. Nuclear winter was coming, and I thought Khan was the only option to survive it! But within _minutes_ of our reanimation, Khan made it clear that he not only remembers what I did on Earth, but that he still holds it against me. I...I don't want to spend the next hundred years being _ruled_ by someone who doesn't even _like_ me! Not when the galaxy is _alive_! There are so many _possibilities_ out there that for someone with my talents; all I need is the chance! And you are going to give it to me. You are going to use the technology you used to rescue Alvin, take my little friend and I up to your ship, and then you will give me a small craft and supplies which I can use to safely leave the system. You will give me the coordinates of another habitable world, and I will drop your friend off once-"

"Mister Ericsson..." Kirk's glittered face was almost...pitying. "I don't know how you came up with that plan, but it's not going to work. There's no way-"

"I am certain my dear friend here knows how to fly one of your spacecrafts," Harulf interrupted. "And as long as everyone plays their part, I will not hurt him. So just zap us out of here, and this will be over soon."

Kirk just stared. "Did...did Khan really not tell you?"

Leonard could almost feel the doubt seeping into Harulf's posture. "...Tell me what?"

"Mister Ericsson," the captain said slowly. "Khan chose that moon for your colony _very_ _deliberately_. Not only are you in the middle of an area of space that the Federation does not have jurisdiction over, but the moon's magnetic field is off the charts. Basic scanning tech like tricorders still work _up close,_ but _nothing_ is accurate from a distance. We can't pick up individual lifesigns on your moon, _let alone_ beam someone away. It's impossible."

The Augment stiffened; took in a shuddering breath. "...No. No, you're lying. You've made a deal with him to keep us here, haven't you? Stop toying with me, and get me off this moo-"

" _It's_. _Impossible_." Kirk repeated. "There is _no physical way_ for us to get you out of there. Not as fast as you're going to need it. You have no idea how much I wish there was. Please, think through what you're doing. Right now, your best bet is to put down the knife, and step away from-"

Harulf slashed the knife down Leonard's right arm. True to the Augment's threat to Sulu, the blade sliced a couple inches of skin and tissue completely off.

Even the gag could barely muffle Leonard's scream.

Dear God, it hurt! It hurt so much! It…

He had to focus on something besides the pain. He had to...

The partygoers behind Kirk were not taking that turn of events well. He could see the fury of the Klingons; the shock of the Humans...

Scotty had a hand clamped over his mouth. Chekov was crying into Chapel's shoulder. Uhura's eyes were impossibly wide. Spock looked ready to kill. And J...and Kirk...

"Stop!" Kirk pleaded, tears cutting tracks through the glitter on his face. "Hurting Leonard's not going to help you! Just stop-"

"I'll stop when you get me out of here!"

Harulf stabbed the knife straight down this time. It went deep.

Leonard shrieked. His vision went grey; his legs buckled, but Harulf's bruising grip forced him to stay on his feet.

"We can't!" Kirk choked out. "Damn it, we can't do what you're asking-"

"You have to!" There was panic in Harulf's voice. "You don't understand! I can't go back! Khan knows what I've done! I _have_ to get off this moon! You have to-"

" _ERICSSON!"_

The Augment quickly spun them around; held Leonard up between himself and the door like the Human shield he apparently was.

The door was still closed; the wires Harulf had ripped out of the wall seemed to have completely sealed it shut...

But there was a faint red dot in the bottom corner of the door; after a moment, it began to melt.

It didn't take an Augment's brain to realize what was happening. Khan was cutting through the door with a phaser, melting the ancient steel with the ease of a hot knife passing through butter.

"Beam us up!" Harulf ordered desperately; yanked his knife out of against Leonard's arm again. The doctor groaned, but went still as the blade shot up to his throat. "Do it now, or I'll kill him! I swear I'll-"

The center of the door clattered to the floor; Khan stepped through; the air around his phaser rippled with heat.

Khan leveled the weapon at them. "One chance. Let him go. Now."

As Khan spoke, Leonard noticed the tip of the phaser switch from red to blue. He doubted Harulf knew what that meant...but even through his pain, even as all his mind wanted to focus on was the throbbing in his arm and the warm red river running down his arm...the doctor understood immediately, and squeezed his teary eyes shut.

He hated this plan. This plan _sucked_.

...But it wasn't like he could object.

"D-Don't try it!" Harulf half-ordered, half-begged. "If you try to shoot me with that thing, you're much more likely to hit McKay than you are m-"

The blast hit Leonard square in the chest.

Agony pulsed through the doctor's body. He felt Harulf tense; yelp as a good chunk of the phasic energy moved through Leonard; into his captor. The knife fell away...and then the world went dark for the second time that hour.

 _He woke up on the floor, head swimming. The cold metal panels felt like ice on his cheek. The light hurt his eyes, so he closed them again._

 _...How long had he been out? How long..._

" _YOU TRAITOR!"_

 _Sounds of a struggle. Screams…_

 _Not long then. Not...Augmented Humans recovered far faster from phaser fire than...He was still in danger. Still..._

 _...A loud crunch._

 _Sickening...wet...noises._

 _Something splashed the back of Leonard's head. In the back of his mind, he knew what it was, but he couldn't place whose it-_

Something clamped down on Leonard's injured arm; the shock of the pain snapped him reluctantly back into awareness. He screamed into his gag; tried to twist away.

"It's okay, it's okay!" A familiar, hurried voice assured him. "It's just me. You're gonna be okay, Leonard. But I have to put pressure on this thing. Did he get you anywhere else?"

...Oh.

Leonard opened his eyes. Gideon was crouched over him. He'd drafted his dress shirt into a makeshift dressing; was using it to staunch the flow of red from Leonard's arm. It was already starting to bleed through...

...Anywhere else...

He tried to feel around his body; to sense if there were any other injuries; shook his head when he couldn't find any.

"Good...That's...that'll help." Gideon gave him a tight smile; then glanced back over his shoulder. "Could somebody get the restraints? My hands are a little full here."

Zuleika hurried into his line of sight; she and Gideon carefully eased Leonard into a sitting position, facing away from the strange wet sounds.

"That dumb bastard," the former assassin muttered as she fumbled with the restraints. "What was he thinking? What the hell was he thinking..."

"We have to move," Gideon said quietly, but urgently. "There's a chunk _missing_ from Leonard's arm. He's losing a lot of b-"

"If you want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, then you _need_ to wait," the assassin muttered as she sliced through the knot around Leonard's wrists; did the same with his gag. "Lenny'll be fine a little longer."

"Say that all you want, but this thing's soaking through-"

"Do you realize what'll happen if Khan turns around and his pet's gone again? Besides, at the rate Lenny's bleeding, he's still got time. I've seen people lose way more blood than this, and still refuse to die when I need them t-"

"I can understand you," Leonard choked out.

His helpers froze.

"...Right," Gideon muttered. "That...translator...thing is active on the bridge. Doesn't matter what language we...Sorry Leonard. It's going to be okay."

"...Sure."

Leonard tried to take in the room. At some point, the bridge had filled with Augments. A few were looking worriedly at him...but most...most had their attention fixed farther up the bridge.

Leonard craned his head in that direction.

Gideon's warning of: "No, Leonard, don't!" came too late; the captive's mouth immediately tasted like bile.

Harulf was far...far past dead...but Khan kept attacking.

Punching.

Snapping.

Stabbing.

Tearing Harulf apart.

The others were just...watching. Nobody tried to interfere.

Nobody dared.

"You had NO RIGHT to take him!" Khan used a knife to punctuate his words. "He! Is! MY! DOCTOR! He is under! MY! PROTECTION! He is NOT! TO! BE! HARMED!"

...Someone...someone had to. Someone had to stop this...this...horror.

"Stop…" The word croaked from Leonard's lips.

If Khan heard him, he didn't show any sign of it. He just kept going.

...God...the noise was...the sight...the smell of blood just...he couldn't...it was just...

"Khan, STOP!" The strain of shouting made Leonard's head swim. His heart pounded in his ears. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. He stared at the red floor; started to sob. "Please...please stop...please..."

…The bridge went quiet.

There was a moment of stillness. Where it felt like the only sound in the universe was his own hitching breath.

And then…

"Leonard!"

Something metal clattered; someone scrambled loudly across the floor.

He felt Gideon tense against him; heard him draw a sharp breath; felt him start to move away, but then pause; apply more pressure to Leonard's throbbing arm instead.

A pair of feet appeared in Leonard's blurry vision; then knees; then...dripping...red...hands.

"I told you. To stay. In sight."

...Oh god.

Khan sounded beyond pissed.

Leonard took a deep breath, then lifted his gaze to meet his savior's...and started to shake.

The doctor remembered that look all too well. He'd hoped he'd never see it again.

Was...was that rage...that hatred...was that for him? For not listening? For embarrassing him in front of his people? Was Khan so mad, he was gonna make what Harulf did to him look like a papercut?

He hadn't meant to. He hadn't wanted...he'd just wanted to be safe...

"I-I'm sorry," Leonard babbled out in sheer terror. "The explosions...I thought we were under att...I thought he was tryin' ta help me find cover, but then he started chokin' me, and I tried ta call fer help, but I passed out, and I'm sorry I couldn't-"

"Don't."

A bloody hand grabbed the doctor's good shoulder; he flinched; let out a whimper as the movement jostled his injured arm; clenched his eyes shut again.

"Khan-" Gideon began, then abruptly stopped. Like his leader had shot him a look that forbade him from interfering with...whatever this was gonna be.

...He wouldn't resist. Whatever Khan was gonna do to him, it'd only make it worse if he-

"Don't apologize McCoy."

The firm grip on the doctor's shoulder eased; the killer's thumb rubbed a few small circles in the ruined fabric. Then the sticky hand slid up...past...Leonard's neck, and stroked his bearded cheek.

Confusion competing with his dread, the doctor opened his eyes again.

...Khan's fury was gone. Now the man just looked...sad.

"This...this is not your fault," Khan whispered. "You couldn't've...I...I am the one who...I promised I wouldn't let anyone near you, but I allowed myself to be distracted, and I...I didn't even realize you were gone until Gideon...I...I thought I'd lost you. I thought..."

Khan pressed his lips against Leonard's forehead.

The doctor froze.

...Okay...on the plus side...this...this was better than being tortured to death. Leonard had a lot of questions, and he was pretty sure there was gonna be a bloody lip print in the middle of his forehead, but he'd take this over where it'd seemed like they were headed any day of the-

" _Somebody over there..."_ Kirk's pleading voice wavered through the monitor. _"Somebody, please...just tell me if Leonard's alright."_

Had he been calling out to them this whole time? That didn't sound like a first attempt...

Khan stiffened; pulled away. "...Of course. Half of Starfleet is probably ready to launch an invasion...I have to..."

The killer rose; turned to the control panel.

It hit Leonard how bad an idea that was far too late.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT DID YOU DO, KHAN!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO L-"

"HE'S FINE!" Khan bellowed. "McCoy is fine! This is not his blood! Get ahold of yourself, and I'll let you see him!"

"Friend of yours?" Gideon whispered to Leonard.

The doctor started to nod...then stopped himself.

Kir...Jim sounded so afraid...so terrified of losing him...he...he did still care...He still...

...But that didn't change what he'd done. The horrible things J...Kirk had done to these people…

There were footsteps behind them; Leonard tensed, thinking one of the other Augments was about to attack...but then Joaquin and Nur rushed into view; turned back a few feet from Khan; stared back at the crowd.

...Khan's bodyguards. Right.

Stepping back into their old roles the moment they thought Khan might be vulnerable..and no longer seemed quite as homicidal.

"Where...where is he, Khan?" Kirk's voice was far from steady, but it wasn't nearly as hysterical as it had been a moment before. "Whose blood is that? What did you do-"

"I killed the man who attacked Doctor McCoy," Khan growled. "I told my people that hurting McCoy could bring down the wrath of the Federation. Harulf was well aware of this, and yet he risked all our lives for his own selfish gain. And not for the first time. He was a blot on our people, and he deserved-"

"KHAN!" Now Kirk just sounded pissed. "Save the damn speech you're frantically writing in your head to explain this to your subjects, and show me my best friend. Right now."

...Enough.

"Help me up. Please."

Gideon nodded to Zuleika; they eased Leonard to his feet; into view of the monitor.

"Bones…" Kirk's shoulders sagged with relief. "Bones, oh thank g-"

"I ain't your best friend," Leonard growled. He had to stop this. Before people associated him with this...monster. "We...we were never really friends. You just _used_ me ta help keep your sorry ass outta trouble. That's it."

Kirk looked like he'd just been punched. His mouth opened; shut. He closed his eyes; took a deep breath…then shifted his focus to Khan.

"I saw what Harulf did to B...L...Doctor McCoy's arm," Kirk said evenly. "It's serious. Maybe more serious than your people can deal with yet. With your permission, we can send down a shuttle, and-"

"No shuttles," Khan ordered. "We do not need your help, understand? Doctor Hawkins can handle this. He is taking Leonard to the medbay right now."

The killer turned to them before Kirk could reply. "Go, Gideon. I'll be there in a moment...Zuleika, you go too. Keep them safe."

Gideon glanced at the screen; then nodded; he and Zuleika gently guided Leonard away from the slippery, red mess behind them.

Kirk was talking again, but the doctor didn't bother listening to what he was saying. Probably just threats. Accusations that Khan broke the treaty on the first day. Any excuse to come down here and wipe these people out once and for all.

...How could he ever have been so blind? How could he ever have thought...

The floor warped. His escorts caught him as he pitched forward; steadied him.

"Woah," Gideon breathed. "Leonard, are you feeling okay to walk?"

"I'm fine," Leonard muttered. "Just a little dizzy."

"It'll be faster if I carry him," Zuleika suggested.

Leonard grimaced. If he was being honest...he knew he needed the help, and he understood why Khan had wanted one of his most loyal fighters to escort him to the medbay...but Zuleika made him uncomfortable. She hadn't tried anything since she realized who's protection he was under, but he couldn't forget how she'd treated him when they first met.

"I'll be fine," Leonard insisted. "'S'not that far-"

"If you faceplant on your way to the medbay, Khan's gonna have my ass," Zuleika told him firmly. "And Hawkins will be able to keep a more stable grip on your arm if you're not stumbling every few steps."

"It is a good idea, Leonard," Gideon said apologetically.

...Damn it.

"...Fine."

The two Augments coordinated their movements: Gideon kept his friend's arm stable while Zuleika crouched; scooped Leonard off his feet.

It never stopped astounding him, how strong these people were. Not a twitch of staining muscle; not even so much as a huffed breath. To Zuleika, carrying him probably felt like carrying a cup of coffee. An awkward, bleeding cup of coffee...but still.

Basil and Florent broke from the crowd; started ushering people out of their way.

Not that that took much effort. Most of the Augments parted like the Red Sea before the trio got anywhere near them.

"I'm sorry Leonard," Gideon muttered. "I should've brought the trauma kit down to the party. We could've had you half patched up by now."

"Ya couldn't've known..."

"Still...I'm sorry. We'll get you to the medbay as fast as we-"

"Out of the way!"

The trio froze; looked down the corridor. Aiko was pushing her way through the crowd, the trauma kit slung over one shoulder; a medical tricorder in hand.

...Bless that woman.

Aiko had been one of the first Augments to ask for medical training. And she was good at it. Apparently to her, absorbing all the medical jargon was "just another language to learn." She'd torn through the basics faster than any of the newbies; she had great instincts. Leonard was sure she was going to make a fantastic doctor…

She also had purple discoloration and swelling around her right eye. That hadn't been there half an hour ago...

"Are you alright?" Leonard asked worriedly.

Aiko stopped in front of them; gaped. "I...Shouldn't I be asking you that? Your the one-"

"Ya've got a black eye. What happened?"

The linguist grimaced. "I caught an elbow to the face during the second explosion. At first I thought it was an accident...but now I'm pretty sure it was Harulf knocking me out of the way so he could...I'm so, so sorry Len! I should've been watching out for you, but I didn't think-"

"This isn't your fault," Gideon interrupted. "Come on, let's just get a little privacy, and get started."

The group hurried through the last clusters of Augments; slipped into one of the empty side rooms a short distance from the bridge.

Zuleika and Gideon carefully set Leonard down against the inside wall. Basil and Florent stood at the doorway; shooed away their curious peers; Aiko set down the trauma kit; unzipped the main compartment.

"Numanol first," Leonard half-begged. "Three cc's, close as ya can get it to the wound. Need ta numb the pain so I can focus."

Gideon blinked. "Focus on what?"

"I've gotta walk ya through what ta do. I've gotta-"

"You don't have to do anything but sit back and let us work," Gideon said gently. "You've done a great job catching us up to speed."

"But-"

"I did just fine on Lucius' leg, didn't I?"

Leonard grimaced. "Guess you're right. Sorry, I just had ta walk Khan through this stuff when…"

The doctor froze.

...Had he just said...

Oh God. Had they caught that? Had they realized...

They were all staring at him. Even Basil and Florent were giving him worried glances from the doorway.

"...Guys," Leonard shakily began again. "I could really use that Numanol. You have no idea how much this hurts."

Horrible save. Definitely not enough...

But it did seem to snap everybody back into medical mode. Aiko fished a hypo of Numanol out of the trauma kit; set the dosage; carefully pressed it into Leonard's injured arm.

Finally, the throbbing agony ebbed away.

"Aiko, I'm going to count to three," Gideon said. "On three, I'll stop applying pressure, and peel this shirt from Leonard's arm. Be ready with the medicated gauze."

"You got it."

The pair moved quickly, swapped out the ruined cloth for an actual dressing with impressive speed. The gauze would help disinfect the wound, and the clotting agent infused into it would at least slow the bleeding...but Leonard knew that they still needed to act fast.

"How are his vitals?" Gideon asked as he reached into the trauma kit; pulled out a protoplaser.

Aiko popped the scanner out of the side of the tricorder; started checking Leonard over. "Blood pressure: ninety over sixty. Heart rate: 110 bpm. It...it looks like there's actually two lacerations: one shallow and wide; one narrow and deep. The deep one seems to have put a notch in Leonard's humerus. Maybe even penetrated into the marrow."

"Damn it," Gideon swore. "Alright, we're going to need a volunteer for a transfusion before this is over. It's risky, since Leonard's not-"

"There's a couple packs 'a my blood in the back of the cold storage fridge," Leonard told them. "Khan helped me draw 'em 'fore we woke y'all up...just in case somethin' went wrong."

It'd been a good idea, even if Leonard had been...less than enthusiastic...about it at the time. Even with the transfusions Khan'd used to cure him, there was no telling what another dose of Augment blood could do to him; no telling if it'd be like any normal transfusion, or if it'd rewrite his DNA even more.

This way, they didn't have to risk it.

"Okay..." Gideon sighed in relief. "As long as we get a handle on this fast...that should be enough. Let's stop the bleeding, then we'll move this party to the medbay, and get you hooked up to an IV. Is that okay, Leonard?"

"...Whoo..."

It turned out that Gideon and Aiko made a good team. She fed him up-to-date tricorder readings while Gideon operated the instruments. The pair pressed Zuleika into service as an assistant; had her hand them supplies from the trauma kit as they focused on fixing Leonard's arm.

He'd almost forgotten how fast things like this could be fixed when there was more than one person on the surgical team. No bouncing back and forth between the protoplaser and the tricorder; somebody simply handing the surgeon what they need instead of having to stop mid-surgery to scrounge for a specific hypo; just...a rhythm. A steady, working rhythm that mended bone and muscle and blood vessels and skin at a speed that any single doctor could never manage on their own.

When he left in three days, these people would be in more than one set of good hands. That was a huge relief.

"Alright," Gideon pulled away; put the protoplaser back in the trauma kit; turned back with a tight smile. "The skin near the surface is still really fragile, and I'd like to take a dermal regenerator over it a couple times once you're stable, but I think it's time we get you to the medbay."

"Can I walk?"

"Did your body miracuously replenish all that lost blood while we patched you up?"

"...That's fair."

The trip to the medbay was awkward, but uneventful. His companions didn't really talk much except to make sure he was still comfortable, but it wasn't like there was a ton to say. At least...not a ton anybody wanted to talk about.

Once they reached the medbay, Zulieka set him down on his biobed; propped it up to a sitting position. Gideon made a beeline for the cold storage fridge while Aiko prepped an IV stand. After everything he'd gone through, the needle was nothing, and as the line of red made its way down the tubing and back into his body, Leonard felt his frayed nerves finally begin to soothe.

"We'll use the second bag if we have to, Leonard," Gideon said while looking down at a tricorder. "But looking at these results, I'm hoping you'll only need the one."

...Right. His body was probably replenishing his lost blood just as fast as Khan's had after he was attacked by Joaquin, Zuleika and Har…

"You alright Leonard?" Gideon looked worried. "Your heart rate just spiked."

"I''m fine," Leonard tried to smile. "Just still processin' all the crap that's...I'm fine. Hope you're right about the transfusion. The less time I have ta spend hooked up to a pole, the better."

"That we can agree on," Gideon smiled back; then turned to Aiko. "Now, let's take a look at that eye."

The linguist waived him off. "It'll heal soon. There's really no need-"

"Unless you were hit at just the right angle to cause hyphema," Gideon said firmly. "Or a detached retina, or a dislocated lens. A lot can go wrong with the eye, and I don't think you want to start going blind before you hit thirty, do you?"

Aiko went pale. "Can...can that happen to us?"

"Let's not find out."

The linguist nodded; sat down on the biobed next to the shelves; Gideon started his scans.

Leonard shifted on the biobed; closed his eyes; took a deep breath.

This...this could've gone a lot worse. Harulf could've aimed for something way more vital, or nicked the brachial artery, or…

He was lucky. Incredibly lucky. And if Khan hadn't found them when he did-

"Is he alright?"

Leonard's eyes snapped open; he immediately cringed.

Khan was still drenched in blood...but none of it seemed to be his. He wasn't clutching anything, or slouching with the effort to stay on his feet. It all just seemed to be...drying. Hardening into his clothes and hair and...

The phaser must've stunned Harulf more than Leonard realized. It probably had barely even been a fight...

"I'll be fine," Leonard didn't even try to smile. "Gonna have a bit of a scar on my arm, 'least for a little while, but I'll live."

"Yes...about that..." Khan fished a bloodstained hand into his pocket; held up a floppy, red piece of...something… "I...um...I found this…lying on the monitor, and I remembered Gideon said...would it help ease the scarring?"

Leonard's breath hitched.

...Oh god...it was…

"We're already done," Leonard choked out. "Fifteen minutes ago, maybe, if it wasn't too contaminated, but now...Just pitch it. Please."

Khan nodded; moved towards the waste crate...then stopped; turned back.

"Do you mind if I run some tests on this instead? I have been curious to see if I can pinpoint which portions of my genome actually transferred to yours when I cured you...but given our arrangement-"

"Do whatever ya want with it," Leonard groaned. "Just please...put it somewhere I can't see it."

Khan crossed to the cold storage refrigerator; put the...thing...in an empty tray; closed the door.

There was a red smear on the handle when he took his hand away.

Khan blinked; glanced down at his red-stained...everything...and grimaced. "I...believe a shower is in order."

"We'd all appreciate it," Gideon agreed without looking up from his work.

"Right...I will be back in a moment." Khan crossed to the bathroom; slipped inside; closed the door.

There was a moment of pure silence. Gideon was making short work of the bruising around Aiko's eye; Basil and Florent kept glancing between Leonard, the bathroom door, and the exit, and Zuleika was...staring at him. He couldn't figure out what that expression on her face was.

...She and Harulf had been brought in together. They'd apparantly been awake; locked in some Starfleet holding cell for awhile before Khan's attempted rescue. Had they become friends? Did she blame Leonard for what Khan did to him? Was she looking for an opprotunity to-

"So," Zuleika broke the silence; clapped her hands together. "Are we ever going to ask Lenny about that little slip back by the bridge? Or are we just going to pretend he didn't say-"

"Not now, Zuleika," Gideon had a warning in his voice.

"Then when?" The assassin huffed; pointed at Leonard. "Our _friend_ is leaving in three days. There's not a lot of time left, and I'm _dying_ to know just how big a hypocrite Khan's been about-"

"Zuleika," Basil said nervously. "Not so loud. Khan's right behind that-"

"Have you ever had a post-murder shower? Trust me, the only thing Khan's focused on is getting the blood out from under his fingernails. We have time. Don't you want to know what he meant?"

Leonard's gut clenched.

...They _had_ noticed. And for whatever reason, Zuleika wasn't letting it slide.

...He hoped it was just curiosity. He hoped it wasn't...

"I didn't mean _anythin'_ by it," Leonard told them quietly. "I was just outta my head with pain. Not thinking straight, and babbling random-"

"Oh, cut the crap," Zuleika sat on the edge of his bed. "After what Khan just did to Harulf, do you really expect us to believe he's used kid gloves on you this whole time?"

...Khan had warned him about her. About what she did on Earth when she thought she could get away with it. What she might do to him if she thought...

"He didn't...It's not what you think-"

"Leonard." Gideon stepped away from a newly-healed Aiko; turned to him with kind...sad eyes. "You don't have to lie for him. I saw your x-rays the day we met. And I saw them all again today...and more. Your arm; your ribs; your leg. Those breaks-"

"Were all from an accident," the captive said quickly. "When Khan cured me, it changed the way I heal. It was all the same acci-"

" _What_ accident?" Gideon pushed. Apparently they were doing this. "You've said that before, but you've never been specific. What kind of _accident_ could you have had here that could _possibly_ break that many bones?"

Leonard opened his mouth; closed it. What would they believe? What would stop them from thinking Khan was some kind of monster? That early on, Leonard'd been so stubborn that Khan had to repeatedly break his ribs, and choke him, and...and Khan wasn't even that person anymore! He'd changed! Looking back, he'd been changing ever since that time that Leonard fell off the…

...That was it. That was...that was their only chance.

"...I fell." The captive reluctantly admitted.

"You fell?!" Zuleika laughed. "Of all _weak excuses_ -"

" _Off the ship,_ " Leonard snapped; drew a deep breath; let it out. This part was true. It wasn't the _whole_ truth...but the story itself was true. "Early on, when we were still perched on that yellow moon ya see at night, Khan had me help him on some of the ship's upgrades. I'm...not the best with heights, but we were workin' on tacking shield emitters to the hull, so it was kinda important that the work got done, so I agreed ta go out. But the shields malfunctioned, and I got knocked off. I fell about three stories, and a lotta things...snapped...when I hit the ground. Ribs. Shin. The works. I was goin' inta shock by the time Khan could get to me, but he didn't leave me ta die. He brought be back to the ship, and...and he didn't know how ta use any of instruments, so he kept me awake and numbed up with Numanol, and I taught 'em how ta work a bone knitter, and a protoplaser, and even an auto-aspirator to fix my collapsed lung. Khan _saved my life_ that day. And that's what you saw in those scans. The aftermath on an honest-ta-God accident, where Khan acted like a _decent human being._ "

...Was that enough? Did they believe him?

Gideon was staring at him; searching his face for...something. Signs of deception? Of fear? There was probably plenty of that...but it didn't make the story any less true.

"...Alright Leonard," his friend sighed. "If you say that's what happened...I'll accept that. But if you ever decide that there's anything else you want to tell me-"

"There won't be," Leonard insisted. "'Cause that's what happened. Ask Khan yourself."

"Ask me what?"

The group tensed; looked back at the bathroom door. Khan was standing there, hair matted down with water; a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was tilted the way it got when he didn't understand something.

"...Leonard was just telling us about the first time you saved his life," Gideon said evenly. "When there was a breach in the hull that needed to be repaired, and he fell off the side of the ship."

"A hull breach?" Khan's eyes flicked to Leonard; his eyebrows furrowed; shot up. "No...that was no hull breach. That...that was one of my greatest mistakes."

"What do you mean?" Aiko asked, doubt clear in her voice.

"The Botany Bay needed Starfleet technology to replace some of its old components," Khan began with a shrug. "And the hull had been badly damaged by meteor strikes, to the point where it was easier to attach shield emitters to the outside of the ship than it was to replace every single panel. I designed the emitters myself based of of Starfleet schematics, and had McCoy install them as a way to give him a little exercise. But there was a mistake in the coding I took from Starfleet. The shields turned on the moment McCoy placed the last emitter, and he was knocked off the hull. That the man did not break his spine when he landed was complete and utter luck...but nevertheless...he _was_ gravely injured. All because I did not check the work that came before my own. It is one of my greatest regrets."

...Was that last part true? Did Khan really feel guilty about…

Why wouldn't he? He wasn't a monster.

The room was quiet for a moment...then Basil huffed. "Well, it matches. I'd say that's that."

"May I presume this was some kind of test?" Khan did not sound amused.

"We had to be sure," Gideon said unapologetically. "A lot of old fractures showed up in Leonard's scans. They could easily be signs of-"

"Of torture," Khan grimaced. "I see your point. I hope this puts your suspicions to rest?"

"...Your stories line up," Gideon admitted. "And Leonard's adamant that there's nothing more to it."

"Then that's that," Khan repeated Basil's sentiment. "I understand your concern, Gideon, and I appreciate the effort you have put in to protect Doctor McCoy...but it is time to let your suspicions go."

Gideon glanced around the room; gave Leonard a concerned look...then closed his eyes; sighed; and started putting away the instruments he'd used to mend Leonard and Aiko's injuries.

"...I'll do my best."

"That is all I ask," Khan shifted his attention to the linguist sitting by the shelves. "Thank you for your assistance, Aiko. I heard you ran for the trauma kit."

"It was the least I could do."

"No," Khan shook his head. "The least you could do was to stand there, gawking at the scene playing out on the bridge...as many of our people did. Everyone in this room has earned my respect...and my gratitude. I will never forget what you did tonight."

"Always a plus to be on the Emperor's good side," Aiko half-joked...but there wasn't a smile in her eyes. "Need anything else?"

"Actually, a change of clothes would be greatly appreciated," Khan gestured down to his bare chest and toweled waist. "I would just borrow something from McCoy's wardrobe...but in certain key areas, we are fairly different sizes, and I need to be assured of a certain level of dignity."

"Can't have the Emperor's pants falling off," Zuleika quipped.

"No," Khan chuckled. "No, we cannot. Would you mind, Aiko?"

"It's not a problem," Aiko shrugged. "What size are you?"

"Just retrieve something from my quarters," Khan stepped back into the bathroom; came out with a blood-smeared PADD. "There is a camera outside the door; I will be able to unlock it remotely when you arrive...Just please, be discreet."

"You got it," the linguist nodded; glanced at Gideon. "Just as long my eye's all done?"

"Yeah, you're good to go," Gideon told her. "We'll do a check up in the morning to make sure I didn't miss anything, but I think you're fine."

"Great…" The linguist started for the door; then froze; hurried to the bathroom; came back out with a damp towel. "For your arm...and that...spot...on your forehead. I'll be back in a minute, Len."

He gratefully took the cloth; smiled back. "Thanks Aiko. See ya soon."

The linguist left the medbay without another word.

"Now then," Khan shifted his attention to the engineers standing by the door. "Basil, a few of our people are keeping watch over the place where Harulf's explosives detonated. I need you and Florent to ascertain what he used to cause the blasts. But be on guard. There might have been more that did not detonate as intended."

"We'll be careful," Basil promised; he and Florent slipped away as ordered.

Leonard started carefully cleaning off any blood he could find. He'd known there was a lot...but as the towel started turning red, he couldn't help but realize exactly how close he'd come to d…

He shuddered; his stomach started twisting into knots.

...Maybe this wasn't the time to think about it. Not when his blood was still being pumped back into him.

Khan turned to the assassin next. "You may go as well, Zuleika. Joaquin and Nur are standing watch in the corridor. They will take over security for the moment. Go clean yourself up; burn that dress."

The ex-assassin winced; looked down at her blood-smeared clothes. "I'd rather try to salvage it. I've had to get more blood than this out of my clothes before."

"Very well," Khan let out a dry laugh. "Cleaning supplies are on the second level, thirteenth room on the right. Or just go to the bridge: they're...cleaning...in there as we speak."

"Sounds like a plan," Zuleika headed for the exit. "I've got one of those Starfleet flip-phone things on me. If anyone else tries anything, ring."

Khan nodded; the assassin disappeared through the doorway.

"Now then..." Khan drew a deep breath; turned to Gideon. "Doctor Hawkins...if McCoy is stable, then I need you to go to the bridge as well. I told Fennec to keep a few of the larger...samples...of Ericsson's genetic material away from potential contaminants."

Gideon's brow furrowed. "Why...what do you expect me to do?"

"Collect those samples, and place them in cold storage," Khan grimaced. "As distasteful as the prospect is, our population is too small to waste that traitor's genes. The technology Starfleet has provided us just needs a few scraps of viable genetic material, correct?"

Gideon gaped. "...Khan...there's a laundry list of ethical rules about-"

"It is not like am not asking you to _cut off his hand,_ " Khan scowled. "He is _already_ dead, and those samples have _already_ been taken from his person. And as your Emperor, _I_ make the laws, and _I_ say what I want you to do is perfectly legal. You do not have to like it, but you _will_ help keep our society viable. Understand?"

Gideon glared...then turned to the cold storage fridge; grabbed an empty container; turned back to Khan.

"Don't let Leonard fall asleep while I'm gone. The transfusion should be enough to keep him stable, but I don't want to risk it yet."

"I will keep him occupied," Khan promised. "Just go before the samples become too contaminated to use."

Gideon gave Leonard one more concerned look...and left as ordered.

"...Now then," Khan tapped something into the bloody PADD; from the corner of his eye, Leonard saw the distinctive sparks of a forcefield going up across the center of the room.

"Is that necessary?" Leonard asked. "It's gonna make it a bit hard for Gideon and Aiko ta get back-"

"I will lower it when they arrive," Khan carefully sat on the biobed by the storage crates. "This is for your protection. I thought you were safe at the party, and I am not making that mistake again. You cannot leave this room for any reason until Starfleet comes for you."

Leonard grimaced. "...Alright. Well, just let me know when ya wanna put the chain back on, and I'll-"

"No!" Khan snapped; winced. "No...you have worn that chain for the last time."

...Wait.

"What do you mean-"

"In a moment," Khan shook his head. "First, before it slips my mind...I want to let you know how much I appreciate your...discretion...about the origins of some of your injuries. I can imagine how the subject came up, and telling the story of your...fall...was the wisest thing you could have done."

"They don't need ta know the rest," Leonard sighed. "Wouldn't do anybody any good."

"No. It wouldn't."

The silence that fell between them was...awkward. But pretty unavoidable, given what they'd been trying _not_ to talk about. It was so quiet that, when Khan finally did speak again, the doctor jumped a little.

"How are you, McCoy? Really."

Leonard grimaced; fiddled with the tubing of his IV; let out a dry laugh. "I'm...a bit embarrassed. You were right: I shouldn't be so trusting. I...It didn't even cross my mind that Harulf might've wanted ta hurt me till his arm was wrapped 'round my neck."

"You constantly try to see the best in people," Khan ran a hand through his wet hair. "There are...worse...flaws to have."

"Khan..." Leonard started slowly. "What did ya mean before, when ya said I'd 'worn the chain for-'"

"I meant exactly what I said," there was...exhaustion...in the Augment's voice. "It has been weeks since that chain was necessary for anything other than your safety in my absence. But now, it is completely useless. In the time we have remaining, I do not intend to leave your side. _I_ will be your protection."

...That was a long time for the leader of a colony to be cloistered away.

"Ya'v got a lotta responsibilities, Khan. Are you sure you can-"

"None as important as this," Khan blurted; immediately grimaced again. "I...there are two superpowers orbiting my people's home, and the agreement I have made with them is hanging by a thread. Even with the threat of my bombs still in place...if anything else happens to you, that thread might snap, and my entire society could be wiped out of existence. Protecting you is paramount. Understand?"

...When he put it that way...

"Alright...well, I won't be very good company once Gideon lets me sleep, so if ya need anything to read, my book PADD's right over-"

"That will not be necessary," Khan shook his head. "I have a great deal of work to do before the shuttle arrives, and not much time to do it."

That...didn't make sense.

"Do ya really expect me ta believe it's gonna take you three days ta plunk down all your bomb codes-"

"I do not _have_ three days," Khan's voice...wavered. He hunched over; stared at the floor; took a deep breath. "You're going back tomorrow. At sunset."

...What?

Leonard blinked. "But...I thought the plan was ta give me three days ta make sure Gideon's-"

"Blame that _damn_ Vulcan," Khan growled bitterly. "Commander Spock pointed out that, _logically_ , if those you have trained could mend your arm without external assistance, then there is very little you could teach them in three days that could not learn through medical textbooks and PADD simulations."

"But-"

"It was either that, or allow them to send down a team of doctors to assist Gideon in your treatment," Khan grimaced. "Which, clearly, would have been unnecessary...and dangerous. Who knows who would actually be on that shuttle. After what Ericsson did to you, your former colleagues were not in the mood to negotiate. Your departure tomorrow, at sunset, was the best compromise I could reach. At least that still gives us...gives you one day to fill in the last major gaps in Gideon's training. Which you will do to the best of your abilities, understand?"

"Of course," the doctor nodded. "I don't wanna leave y'all out here without somebody who can use every piece of equipment in this place. We can start goin' over the sonic separator as soon as Gideon gets b-"

"Not tonight Leonard," Khan rolled his eyes. "In the morning. As soon as Doctor Hawkins clears you to sleep, you are going to do so. I am not giving the Federation any more ammunition in the propaganda they will undoubtedly spread about my people. When they come for you, you will be well-rested, well-fed, and in overall good health. Nothing less."

Leonard froze; shot Khan a stunned look.

The Augment frowned. "What's wrong?"

...Had he not realized...

"You called me Leonard. You _never_ call me Leonard."

Khan blinked...then a small smile twitched onto his face. "Yes...I suppose I did."

…Was that really all he was gonna say?

Leonard thought that's what Khan'd called him back on the bridge, but he'd been in so much pain it hadn't really registered. The only other time Khan had bothered to use his first name was right after his escape attempt; just before Khan put that hypo to Leonard's neck...and now it seemed it was just slipping out all over the place.

"Are ya sure Harulf didn't hit you over the head or somethin?"" Leonard blurted; instantly cringed with regret.

"No," The Augment laughed dryly. "No, I am perfectly fine."

"But then why-"

"Let it go, doctor," Khan's face began to darken again. "This...I do not believe this is something you want an answer to."

...Alright. Whatever that meant, he'd learned a long time ago not to poke the bear.

"Whatever ya say," Leonard tried to shrug it off. "Well, I've got at least an hour or so before this bag empties out, and you said you've got work ta do, so would ya mind handin' me my reading PADD? I'm almost done with-"

"I do not need to begin _that_ urgently," Khan shook his head. "Besides...this could very well be the last time we have to just...talk. I don't want to waste it staring at a PADD."

"...Alright." Talking was probably good. It'd keep him awake until Gideon said he could sleep. "Whaddya wanna talk about?"

Khan smiled sadly; his brown eyes had a slight sheen to them.

"...Tell me a story...Leonard. Any you would like."


	71. Chapter 71

Gideon didn't let himself grow attached to people often.

In truth, none of the Augments did. Their lives had been too full of death; of spending their teens grabbing their "Go" bags in the middle of the night and booking it out of a place they'd gone to bed thinking might finally be home. And, later, of burning their old IDs on the way to pick up the new ones.

Kids hadn't been an option. Not unless they wanted to raise them on the run. Friends were dangerous...and painful. Too many of them ended up in the crossfire when things went wrong. Their only family was each other, and even then, it was easier to keep a healthy distance. In case something happened. Something like what Harulf tried and failed to do.

But standing next to Khan and Leonard in the empty field outside of their small colony, it struck Gideon that he was about to lose the first new friend he'd made is over two-hundred fifty years.

There were worse ways for this to end. Leonard wasn't dying. He was just going home. Back to his family. To friends he'd known a lot longer than Gideon; who could help him in ways Gideon simply couldn't.

...But it stung. No matter how right it was. No matter how much it needed to happen...it stung.

This was why he didn't like getting attached. This was why

"Are you certain you have made all your goodbyes?" Khan's voice broke Gideon's train of thought. "The shuttle should arrive any moment. You will not have another chance."

Leonard sighed; nodded. "'S just you and Gideon now. I swear, half the colony swung by the medbay today."

Gideon felt himself smile.

It had actually, to his pleasant surprise, been a little more than half the colony. Most of them only stayed for a few minutes; gave Leonard their best; then left. But a couple had hung around for hours; used the medical training Leonard was offering as an excuse to linger.

Aiko had arrived bright and early that morning, and trained alongside Gideon on the equipment all day long. When she finally gave Leonard one last hug, she did it by picking him up off the ground and twirling him around a few times before setting him down. Khan hadn't seemed too happy about that, but Leonard had been getting pretty pensive, and she'd made him laugh, so it was probably the right move.

Gideon glanced back towards their village. Aiko was leaning against one of the finished houses, alongside Basil and a handful of the others. Khan had told them all to stay back in case something went wrong, but they couldn't resist watching to make sure Leonard had a safe send-off.

And, of course, to send out the alarm in case something went wrong.

None of them could be sure the promises this Federation had made to them would last. None of them knew if these "Klingons" would hold up their end-

"Good," Khan nodded to himself; started fishing around in one of the pockets of his washed...but still visibly stained...coat. "I have something for you. Before I forget."

Leonard frowned. "I'm not sure they're gonna let me bring back souvenirs."

"No, however I doubt they will object to you returning with your own property," the Emperor pulled out a small ring; held it out to his captive.

Gideon recognized a Starfleet insignia etched into the ring's surface; realized the answer to a question he'd been about to ask.

...He'd noticed Leonard had a habit of rubbing at a patch of indented skin on his pinky finger when he was nervous. This explained that...but still left him with a few unsettling questions.

Leonard's eyes went wide as he stared at the sliver of metal...but he didn't move to take it.

"I haven't done anything to it," Khan promised. "And neither has anyone else. It is perfectly safe. I has been in my pocket since-"

"Keep it."

Khan blinked. "What do you mean, 'keep-'"

"I don't want it." There was a tremor in Leonard's voice. "I...it doesn't mean the same things it used to. If ya give it back to me, I'll end up throwin' it away. Just recycle the metal inta somethin' actually useful. Please."

...What had that ring meant to him?

And why the hell did Khan have it in the first place?

Gideon knew that far more must've gone down in the months Khan had held Leonard prisoner than either of them were admitting. This exchange was proof of...something...but he didn't have the context to know _what_ that something was.

...There was still one way he could find out. It was a violation of trust...but Gideon wasn't sure if he could live with himself if he didn't do everything in his power to figure out what Khan had done to-

A strange whistling hum filled the air.

"Alright...if that is what you want." Khan slipped the ring back into his pocket; looked up. "...Here they come."

Gideon saw it a moment later: that glittering speck of metal that seemed to burn red in the light of the setting sun, drawing closer; taking on shape and depth at what, from Gideon's perspective, seemed to be far too great a speed.

But just as he started to make out the numbers painted on its hull, the ship's thrusters glowed red; it slowed to a snail's crawl; landed like a feather touching the ground a healthy distance away from them.

...These "shuttles" weren't exactly as elegant-looking as Gideon had hoped futuristic spaceships would be, but they were still pretty amazing. He had to wonder what they used for fuel; how they could possibly slow down that fast without everyone inside crashing through the windshield. Did they use seatbelts, or would seatbelts do more harm than good at those speeds?

Basil had told him Starfleet had given them some basic engineering textbooks to help them get started. Maybe there was something in those that could explain it to him…

But for now, he was content to be awestruck.

The back of the shuttle was facing them; a hatch opened, and Gideon did a doubletake.

There was a...well...his best guess was a man...with bright yellow hair and skin just a few shades lighter blue than his uniform...visible through the shuttle's entrance. The alien's twin antennae seemed to perk up as he spotted them; then rapidly curled inward.

"Is that a Klingon?" Gideon asked in wonder.

"Him?" Leonard blinked; then huffed. "Nah, that's Nurse Tehs. He's an Andorian. Part a' my old team. Real good at field medicine. Doesn't look too happy ta be here, if I'm bein' honest."

An Andorian...

Absolutely fascinating.

Gideon glanced at his friend; felt a fresh wave of respect.

Exactly how many species did Leonard know how to treat? How many unique anatomical models had he needed to memorize just to get a medical license? Gideon had seen firsthand that the man could use every tool in their infirmary, no matter what it was for. Leonard was a surgeon, geneticist, anesthesiologist, diagnostician, pathologist, and obgyn all wrapped up into one, and if he had really led a team of doctors for a crew full of Humans and Aliens, then…

...Then he understood exactly why Khan had taken him. Leonard was a genius. An incredibly down-to-Earth one...but brilliant nonetheless. Learning how to treat Augment physiology had to have been a cakewalk compared to...whatever an Andorian's circulatory system was like.

Khan had known this. He'd taken a man at the top of his field, clamped a shackle around his ankle, and worn him down until-

"Where is she?" His Emperor growled under his breath. "She swore she would come."

Gideon frowned; shifted his focus back to the shuttle. "Who?"

"Someone who owes me a debt," Khan's eyes never left the hatch. "And she knows very well that it has not been repaid. She had better not...Ah."

A nervous-looking woman stepped into view. She also wore a blue uniform, and had a medical tricorder in her right hand. Her left was firmly gripping the arm of a large man in a red uniform, who had a phaser in his free hand; he scowled at them from across the plain.

"There you are, Doctor Chapel!" Khan called out with a grin. "I am so glad you chose to visit me one last time! And you even brought your friend!"

...Even from a distance...Gideon was pretty sure he saw the woman gulp.

"Stay here for a moment," The Emperor ordered. "Chapel kept her word, and I must return the favor. I will be right back."

Without waiting for them to respond, Khan headed towards the ship.

"Who is she?" Gideon asked Leonard.

"Doctor Christine Chapel," his friend muttered. "She used ta be a nurse on my staff. But she left, and somehow ended up...She's...she's done some pretty bad things. Not a good person."

Oh.

Gideon went rigid. "Is she the one who…?"

"I honestly don't know."

...Right. How would he?

He hadn't understood at first what could make Leonard hate his own people. Not until Khan told him about the sterilizations. If Khan was telling the whole truth, and the Federation really had condoned...

But the odds actually weren't high that Khan _was_ telling the whole truth. The man's track record wasn't the best on that front. He'd said he'd never intentionally hurt Leonard, but the fear the doctor showed whenever Khan seemed even the slightest bit upset told a far different story. Even if Leonard refused to admit it...all the signs were there.

And Khan had said that Captain Kirk was a monster; that he only cared about his personal rise to power, and that he'd used Leonard to help gain it.

But once again, that wasn't who Gideon had seen on the bridge.

That scared voice, begging for word of his friend. Challenging Khan, not with ego-infused self-righteousness in his tone, but with frustration and exhaustion.

Like he'd had conversations like that with Khan before. Like it wasn't the first time something like that had happened.

And through it all, even with tears running down his face, Kirk hadn't made a single threat. His sole focus had been on making sure Leonard...a man he'd called his best friend...was safe.

He hadn't even seemed surprised at Leonard's spiteful response. Just...sad. Once again...like it wasn't the first time.

Kirk clearly wasn't who Khan made him out to be. And if he was misleading them about that, then there was no telling what else Khan might've twisted to keep them on his side.

...And to keep his captive in line.

...This was his last chance. The last time they would ever be alone, and free to talk. He had to do what he could to help his friend.

"Listen, Leonard…" Gideon looked around to make sure the others were still far away. "I know you've said nothing ever...I know you say Khan never intentionally hurt you-"

"I thought we were done with that," the captive tensed; his voice was barely above a whisper. "Ya'v already heard all I'm gonna say ta you about it, and this ain't how I wanna say goodbye, so could ya please not push-"

"I'm not," Gideon shook his head. "I said I wasn't going to ask about it again, and won't, but this is my last chance to...I just...Look, when you step onto that ship, there's something I want you to do for me."

His friend seemed to relax...a little. "And what's that?"

How could he phrase this...

"I've only known you a few weeks," Gideon began carefully. "But I would bet anything that you have more people waiting for you up there than just your daughter. People who care. Who will want to help you...deal with...the things that have happened here. Please, don't push them away."

Leonard stared at him. "I...who exactly are ya thinkin' of when you say that?"

"I think you know."

His friend's face started turning red. "You know what he's done. You know what Starfleet's-"

"I know what Khan _says_ they've done," Gideon corrected. "And maybe he's right. The evidence is...it's there for any tricorder to see that someone...and if he is, then by all means, cut those psychopaths out of your life. But if he l...look...Khan is fallible. He can make mistakes; he can be given misleading information, just like anyone else. So there's a chance your friends-Kirk included-had no idea what was being done to us. Hell, there's a chance that your friends actively tried to stop it-"

"Stop calling 'em that," Leonard almost looked more scared than angry; his eyes flicked to where Khan was still talking to Chapel. "They're not my friends. They've betrayed everythin' they claimed ta believe in. Y'all never did anything to 'em, and they...they did what they did. How could I ever be friends with someone who would do that to a group of good people- _innocent people_ -who just wanted a new start?"

Gideon cringed. "Don't put us on a pedestal, Leonard. I love my people, but there's not a single one of us that can claim a clean conscience."

"But y'all _are_ innocent," Leonard insisted. "Your people never hurt us, and the Federation...you know what they did. You just wanted to live freely! You're all-"

"We're cowards, Leonard." Gideon hated it, but it was true. "We saw a world about to burst into flames, and instead of staying to try to stop it, or to rebuild from the ashes of whatever survived, we hopped on the planet's only lifeboat, and left the rest of Humanity to die."

"It's not like ya had much of a choice," his friend argued. "The Botany Bay's'not the biggest ship."

"That's...that's not the point," Gideon shook his head. Leonard had had a romanticized view of their society etched into his head out of sheer survival. If he wanted to snap him out of that, even a little...then he needed to be brutally honest. "...You need to remember, Leonard: every last one of us-even those of us who call ourselves pacifists-we were all part of Khan's first empire. Some more eagerly than others...some of us even directly disobeyed his orders from time to time...but in the end, we all helped him gain power. We all fought. We've all killed. We all used our skills to put our needs above those of people without our enhancements. We made that choice a long time ago, and a lot of _truly_ innocent people died because of it. It was our mistakes that led Earth into nuclear war. We are the reason Humanity almost wiped itself out. And we have a long, long way to go before we can ever come close to making up for that...if it's even possible."

His friend's mouth opened; closed; there was a watery sheen in his eyes; Leonard's bottom lip started to tremble. "Why are you doin' this? Why are ya tellin me-"

"Because if you can acknowledge what I just told you, and still look at me and see someone who's trying to be a good person, then you need to give your Federation friends the same benefit of the doubt." Gideon hoped that made sense. He hoped… "Please, don't push everyone wearing a Starfleet uniform away based on hearsay. You _will_ need help to readjust, and that will be a lot easier to accomplish if you don't smack away every helping hand. Learn for yourself who is worth letting back into your life. Don't take anyone else's word for it. I think that's the only way you're going to move on this. And you need to move on from this. For yourself, and for your daughter."

Leonard stared at him for what felt like an eternity; then swallowed; looked back towards the colony. Some of their friends waived at him; Aiko, clearly mistaking Leonard's confused, hurt face for another bout of nerves, did a somersault; then made a ridiculous face.

Gideon saw the captive's lips twitch back and forth between a smile and a frown. After another moment, Leonard gave Aiko a tired smile; a waive...then turned back to Gideon.

"...I...I'll think about it."

The Augment doctor let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding; felt himself smile. "That's all I ask, Leonard. And I hope, someday, you realize why-"

"Is everything alright?"

Gideon tensed; turned to see Khan crossing back to them.

"We're fine," Leonard said quickly. "I'm just gettin' a bit sappy, 's'all."

Khan's mouth twitched into a small frown; his eyes flicked from his prisoner to Gideon; then back to Leonard...and he simply shrugged, and huffed. "Well, you are certainly not the only one."

...Why did Khan suddenly seem...pleased...with himself?

Gideon looked over at the shuttle for clues to Khan's chipper mood...and saw Chapel sobbing into the Andorian's shoulder. They disappeared back into the ship, leaving only the man in red in the doorway. His whole face was almost the same color as his shirt, and if Humans had ever evolved the ability to kill with a look, Gideon was pretty sure Khan would have been on fire.

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "What did you do to her?"

"I simply told her a story." The Emperor shrugged. "Nothing she did not deserve...However, I believe her escort is becoming rather...impatient. As much as I hate to cut our time any shorter than it already is...I believe we had better move on to our goodbyes before Lieutenant Hendorff tries to shoot me after all."

...Seriously, what could Khan have possibly said to them? What-

"Right…" Leonard turned to Gideon; "I...um...I've left some notes on calibrating dosages for you guys. The Starfleet recommendations don't work for your metabolisms. My measurements might still need ta be adjusted a bit, but they should work better than what's in the textbooks."

...He needed to focus on sending his friend off right. He'd have a lifetime to figure out the rest.

"I'm grateful for the help," Gideon held out a hand. "Thank you for everything, Leonard. You have a good life, okay? Please, stay safe."

Leonard's lips twitched back into a genuine smile; he clasped the offered hand; gave it a firm squeeze. "You too, Gideon. And...thanks for havin' my back."

"Any time."

...He wished he could have done more. That he'd been awake far longer. That he could've stopped...whatever...Leonard was refusing to admit had happened before he was revived.

He could still find out. If he sacrificed his integrity, he could…

"Do not forget to give them this," Khan pulled a PADD out of his coat; handed it to Leonard. "I placed the...data...the Federation requested in a file next to your journal entries. It's all there."

...Goddammit.

That clever bastard.

Welp. That took care of that.

Trying to mask his own dismay, Gideon studied Leonard's face; saw its expression flicker between fear...nausea...doubt, and relief before settling back on a too-tense smile that didn't reach his eyes.

What the hell were they hiding?

Leonard hugged the PADD to his chest; nodded. "They'll get it. Ya have my word."

...In all honesty...maybe this was for the best. What could he even do if he had proof? Most of the others wouldn't care, and the ones who would weren't the type to do anything about it. Not when they'd sacrificed so much already…

Everyone just wanted this to be over. They just wanted to live their own lives for the first time in...well...ever.

But how could a society built on so many lies last? How could-

"And you have mine," Khan rested a hand on Leonard's shoulder. "My people are done fighting. We will defend ourselves if necessary, but we will not seek out conflict. If the Federation and Klingon Empires keep their word, then they will never have anything to fear from us again."

...Was that true? Or was it another lie?

"I'll tell 'em," Leonard promsed. "And I'll do everything I can ta make'em keep their end of the deal."

"I know you will," Khan smiled sadly; drew a deep breath; let it out. "...Goodbye, Leonard Horatio McCoy. It has been...enlightening."

The Emperor pulled his captive into a hug.

Leonard tensed for a moment, then rested his head against Khan's shoulder; returned the gesture.

Feeling profoundly out of place, Gideon glanced at the man-Hendorff, Khan had called him-watching them the shuttle. The guy looked...more than a little alarmed at this turn of events. Which was...fair. Gideon definitely knew how he felt.

He also had a good idea of how Khan might react if he spoiled the moment...so he just stood there, and waited for it to pass.

...Which took a little longer than he was comfortable with.

"Go," Khan finally slipped his hands back to Leonard's shoulders; took a step away. "Before they think I've decided to keep you."

The captive swallowed; nodded. He closed his eyes; took a deep breath; then turned towards the shuttle and, slowly, started walking.

"This is the right thing to do," Gideon told Khan quietly when he thought Leonard was out of hearing range. "He belongs with his family; not...here. He'd never be safe-"

"Please, Gideon," Khan's voice...wavered. "Not now."

The doctor obeyed his emperor; watched as his friend reached the entrance to the shuttle.

There was a familiar flash of sparks; the large man in red smiled; said something Gideon couldn't quite make out; offered Leonard his hand.

Leonard didn't take it.

...This was going to be hard for him. But there was nothing else Gideon could do to help. He'd just have to hope his friend was able to figure things out on his own.

After a moment, the man in red's smile faded; he slowly reached out; put a hand on Leonard's arm, and gently pulled him forward.

A second after Leonard's feet cleared the shuttle entrance, the forcefield went up with another flash of sparks, and the outer hatch began to close.

In that moment, Leonard turned around; stared back at them with wide, watery eyes.

...He looked so scared.

This had to happen. It was for his own good. Hopefully Leonard would recognize that...someday.

Gideon held up a hand in farewell; smiled reassuringly. He thought his friend saw it, but he couldn't be sure.

Then Gideon blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the hatch was closed.

...And that was it.

Leonard was finally free.


	72. Chapter 72

It was over.

Part of Hendorff had thought this would end in a firefight. Sure, he was the Enterprise's Chief of Security, and he kind of always thought things would end in a firefight, but Khan's track record was pretty horrible, and they'd had to take a pretty huge risk in lowering the shield. Even if Khan couldn't beam something aboard, the Augment's aim was so good he probably could've dropped them all from a mile away...

But there'd been no other way to bring Doctor McCoy aboard. No other way to end this nightmare.

...And it _was_ over.

The treaty was signed. Khan had his people. And Doctor McCoy was standing inside a freshly-shielded shuttle, clutching a PADD to his chest that Khan had sworn would contain the bomb codes.

"It's good to have you back, Doc," Hendorff smiled at the scruffy man leaning against the inside of the shuttle door.

...But McCoy didn't smile back. He just kept clutching the PADD like his life depended on it.

...He'd seemed scared to get into the shuttle. Maybe the doctor didn't believe this was real. That he was actually going home. What if he thought this was a dream; that if he let himself go along with it, he'd wake up back in whatever hellhole Khan'd been keeping him in?

"You're awake, Doc," the guard assured him. "This isn't a dream. We're taking you-"

"The bomb locations and codes are on here," the doctor practically shoved the PADD into Hendorff's hands. "Khan swears they're all there."

...A bit abrupt, but maybe he was just worried something would happen to it. Wanted to make sure they knew what it was.

"Thanks, Doc." Hendorff accepted the PADD; glanced towards the helm.

Chekov was sitting at the controls; Chapel was in the copilot's seat, holding the ensign's hand. She'd stopped crying, but her eyes were still puffy; her breath hitched every now and then.

...After what Khan had said to her...what he said he'd done to Roger Korby...it was honestly surprising she'd stopped crying so soon. Then again, some of Khan's past scenarios had been so...creative...there was a chance she'd gone a bit numb to it all.

Hendorff wished she hadn't had to go through that. He wished he could've knocked that disgusting grin off of Khan's face. He wished...

But at least it was over.

...Almost.

Just one more hurdle to get through.

"Ensign Chekov?"

The pilot pivoted in his chair, still holding Chapel's hand. "Aye?"

"I need you to run some scans on this PADD," Hendorff ordered. "Look for hidden compartments; explosives; neural agents. The thing could be a Trojan horse, and-"

"It's not," Doctor McCoy sounded offended at the suggestion. "It's just the bomb locations and codes. Khan wouldn't boobytrap it."

...Sure.

"...Probably not," Hendorff shrugged. "But it's kind of my job to be paranoid about this stuff. It could mean the lives of not only everyone on this shuttle, but on the Enterprise too."

...McCoy didn't say anything to that.

Hendorff sighed; handed the PADD to Nurse Tehs, who brought it over to Chekov. The ensign scanned it one-handed so he could keep comforting Chapel.

Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to check the thing. Even though the kid had kept the shuttle idling, Hendorff didn't like sitting here with that terrorist within firing range. Even though the odds of Khan doing anything now were low, he didn't like taking chances.

...Which was why he couldn't just skip the other half of this security check.

"Doctor McCoy, would you mind standing against the wall? Just for a second?"

McCoy tensed. "Why?"

"I need to do a quick search and scan," Hendorff said apologetically. "Khan could've slipped something into your pocket during that hug. We need to make sure…"

He trailed off as the doctor stiffly turned away from him; pressed his palms flat against the shuttle wall; kept his feet apart.

...Hendorff hadn't told him to do that.

...Doctor M'Benga had warned him that McCoy might act...weird...when he was released. There was no telling what Khan had done to him. No telling what Doctor McCoy had had to do to stay alive.

For starters, it seemed like the man had gotten used to being searched a lot.

"Can we please just get this over with?" McCoy grumbled.

...Right.

"I'll be quick," Hendorff assured him; started the search. He used a tricorder for as much of it as he could; talked the doctor through the steps where he actually had to touch him. McCoy was tense through the whole thing, and one time he flinched so hard that Hendorff pulled back and didn't start the search up again until the doctor insisted it was fine...but they got through it.

It wasn't until he checked around the doctor's ankles that he realized McCoy wasn't wearing shoes. Just a pair of black slippers, which were matted in places with what looked suspiciously like blood.

...He hadn't thought to bring the doctor a fresh set of clothes. He should've thought of that. He should've...

At least the guy wouldn't have to wear them much longer. They'd get him something fresh once he got on the Enterprise. He'd never have to wear those...things...again.

"All done, Doctor," Hendorff stepped away from him; turned towards the front of the shuttle. "How's it looking, Chekov?"

"Ze PADD seems clean," the ensign responded. "No sign of any physical hazards."

"Then we're good to take off. Get out out of here, Chekov."

"Aye sir."

Hendorff turned back to Doctor McCoy. "Do you want to take a seat? I know you're not the biggest fan of-"

"Sounds great," McCoy brushed past him; sat in a seat by a window; strapped himself in.

Hendorff felt the shuttle shift; tilt a little as it lifted off the ground; then steady out.

...So far, so good.

He hadn't really thought Khan would try anything. Not with so much to lose if he did...but as a security officer, Hendorff had prepared himself for the worst. And he knew there was a chance something could _still_ go wrong…

But Doctor McCoy was there. Strapped into his seat with every restraint he could find, just like he always was whenever he had to take a shuttle. And they had the bomb codes. Things were moving in the right direction.

The doctor closed his eyes; sucked in a deep breath; then craned his head to look out the window. He seemed to focus on something; pressed a hand against the glass. There were tears in his eyes.

Out of a mix of curiosity and concern, Hendorf peeked over McCoy's head.

...Khan and the other Augment were in full view; rapidly shrinking into nothing as the shuttle pulled away.

Those must've been tears of joy then...But McCoy didn't look happy. If anything, he looked...sad.

Maybe the other Augment had been his friend? Hendorff didn't get a good look at him on the surface, but it looked like they'd gotten along. And their goodbye had been pretty respectful.

...Unlike Khan's. That hug had almost given him a heart attack. For a second, Hendorff had thought Khan was going to...squish...Leonard right in front of them, or do something to humiliate him, or…

But that didn't matter now. Doctor McCoy was safe. It really was over.

Hendorff sat next to McCoy on the doctor's right; gave him a smile. "So who was that guy you were talking to?"

The doctor didn't say anything. He just kept staring out the window.

...Maybe the guy wasn't his friend after all. Maybe he didn't want to talk about…

M'Benga had said not to push.

"Do you need anything?" Hendorff asked. "We've got some blankets if you're cold, and if you're hungry there's some chocolate ration packs in-"

"No chocolate," McCoy snapped; immediately cringed. "I...I'm fine, Hendorff. Thanks. Just...I don't want any more _godforsaken_ chocolate. Got it?"

...Any more?

A thought struck Hendorff; he felt his face turn red in a wave of rage.

What _exactly_ had Khan been feeding him all this time? The terrorist _must've_ stolen some fresh food from those outposts. But had he shared it with his captive, or had he hoarded it all for himself? Had that asshole shoved ration packs down Doctor McCoy's throat for two and a half months, while he feasted on all the good stuff? What kind of sick bastard-

"Doctor McCoy?" Nurse Tehs came over; sat to the doctor's left. "Doctor M'Benga wants me to run a few scans before we get back to the Enterprise. So we can start figuring out a treatment plan right away."

McCoy finally turned away from the window; looked at Tehs. "Treatment plan?"

Tehs' antennae twitched. "Doctor M'Benga said you might have developed a...condition...during your imprisonment. For your privacy, he didn't say what it was, but he was adamant that I get some basic scans as soon as possible."

McCoy's eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like fear. He swallowed; looked at his hands; rubbed his left pinky finger.

"...Do whatcha gotta do."

Tehs nodded; he popped the scanner out of the side of his medical tricorder; started passing it over the doctor. A moment later, his eyes narrowed; his antennae curled sharply inwards.

"What the hell..."

"What's wrong?"

Hendorff looked over at Doctor Chapel. Her eyes were still puffy, but now they looked more concerned than anything else.

"I think this tricorder's malfunctioning," Tehs explained. "The moon's magnetic field must've fried it, because it says Doctor McCoy's hormonal levels are...they're way off. Astronomically off. I...I've never seen anything like this."

Chapel went stiff.

"...Let me see."

Chapel rushed over from the helm; took the tricorder and scanner from Tehs.

Through all this, McCoy scowled at his hands; said nothing.

...What was going on? Was it a malfunction? Was any other equipment on the shuttle affected? Were the security scans he'd taken of McCoy accurate, or were they all in danger? What…

He needed to stay calm. Wait for Doctor Chapel's second opinion.

As Chapel passed the scanner over McCoy, her eyes went wide. She flipped it around; scanned herself; turned to Hendorff; waived the thing in his face; then went back to McCoy; passed it over him again.

"Oh my god…" Chapel whispered. "Doctor McCoy...did...did Khan give you-"

"You have eyes," McCoy huffed. "And from what I've heard, you've got the experience to know what you're lookin' at. Go ahead and tell 'em. It'll save time."

Chapel winced; handed the tricorder back to Tehs. "The tricorder's fine. Whatever condition M'Benga was worried about, it's gone now. He's not sick. He might never get sick again. Khan gave him a blood transfusion."

...What.

"Three, actually," McCoy muttered. "So y'all can get the idea of cuttin' me open out of your heads right now. My xenopolycythemia's gone, and my spleen's stayin' put. Got it?"

"Wait," Tehs' antennae shot straight up. "You're telling me you had _xenpolycythemia_ , and Khan-"

"Saved my life." McCoy cut him off. "And no, I didn't have ta beg 'em to. He did it on his own. He saved me because he wanted to save me."

"Doctor McCoy…" Chapel hesitated. "When you say Khan 'did it on his own...' what exactly do you mean? Do you mean he-"

"All you need ta know is that he saved me," McCoy glared at her. "I'll tell M'Benga more if I have to, but I'm not givin' out any more of my medical history ta you. I don't wanna spend the rest of my life as your lab rat."

Chapel looked like she'd been slapped. Her face went pale; her eyes were watery again.

"I...I'll go give M'Benga a heads up."

"You do that."

The scowl stayed on Doctor McCoy's face until the second Chapel turned around; then he rested his head closed his eyes.

"You alright?" Hendorff asked a bit more gruffly than he'd intended to. He hadn't liked the way McCoy had talked to Chapel. Sure, she'd made some mistakes, but she was trying to make up for it. She wasn't a bad person. She didn't deserve…

McCoy hadn't responded.

"...Doc?"

...Nothing.

"Doctor McCoy," Nurse Tehs lifted the medical tricorder again. "Is everything alright?"

...Still, no response.

Hendorff's gut clenched. "Did...could that asshole've poisoned him or something?"

"I'm not seeing any toxins," Tehs' antennae were pointing straight up. "And all his readings are normal. Well...normal enough."

"Then did he just fall asleep?" Who knew what hours Khan'd forced him to work. The doctor might've been so exhausted he just dozed off the moment he felt safe-

"No, he's awake," Tehs definitely sounded a bit confused.

"Then what's wrong with him?"

"Nothin's _wrong_ with me," McCoy finally grumbled. "I just don't wanna talk anymore. Gotta feelin' I'm gonna have ta do a lotta it soon. So if ya still wanna pretend like you care, then please, just let me have a little peace and quiet."

...Oh.

That...made sense. Once they were on the Enterprise, the doctor would have to go through a debriefing, and a full physical, and a whole bunch of reunions. There was no way to know for sure how long all that would take. And if he was already tired...

"Alright, Doctor McCoy...If that's what you want." Hendorff patted the doctor's shoulder; quickly pulled his hand back when the guy flinched. "I-I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

McCoy just shifted further away in his seat; didn't say anything else.

The rest of the blessedly short trip back to the Enterprise was spent in tense silence. Hendorff didn't like it, but if this was what the doctor needed after all the crap he'd clearly been put through, then who was he to complain?

Finally, Chekov put them down in the shuttle bay closest to the main medbay.

"Doctor McCoy," Hendorff said softly so he wouldn't startle the guy. "We're here."

The doctor...cringed.

"...Fine."

Hendorff offered to help him to his feet; McCoy ignored him; crossed to the door; waited.

Captain Kirk was waiting for them just outside the shuttle, along with Commander Spock, Doctor M'Benga, and Admiral Cornwell. Under M'Benga's instructions, they'd kept the welcoming committee small. M'Benga had been worried about overwhelming Doctor McCoy with too many people...and honestly, after what Hendorff had seen on the shuttle, he was pretty sure that'd been a really good idea.

Hendorff could almost feel the excitement in the room. Even Spock seemed to have a sliver of a smile on his face, and Kirk-Kirk was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. There were tears in his eyes.

"Bones!" The captain called out in joy.

...Hendorff noticed Doctor McCoy tense, but he brushed it off. The guy was clearly nervous, but Kirk was his best friend. It didn't matter what Khan'd forced him to say. Maybe all it'd take for the guy to finally relax was to reunite with his best friend.

And the captain was definitely ready for that. Kirk hurried towards his friend; stopped a foot away, opened his arms; nervously offered up a hug.

"Bones, I'm so glad you're-"

McCoy punched him. Hard.

Kirk stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. Spock rushed forward; caught him; kept the captain on his feet. The Vulcan's eyes were wide; his brows were up in his bangs.

After a moment of shock, Kirk righted himself. His eyes were watery; his nose was bleeding. Was it broken? Or just…

The joy was gone from the captain's face. He didn't look angry. He just looked...desolate.

"Bones, I-"

"Don't call me that!" McCoy shouted. "Don't you dare! You don't get ta call me that anymore, you psychopath! You goddamn murderer!"


	73. Chapter 73

Well, at least they hadn't shot him.

...Yet.

For a second in that shuttlebay, Leonard had wanted to give in. To just hug his former friend like he didn't know any better, and pretend everything was fine. That Kirk wasn't a monster.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't let that psychopath get away with hurting innocent people like that. People who were defenseless. Who did nothing to deserve what'd been done to them. Who'd just wanted to be left alone-

"Do you need anything?" Hendorff's nervous voice interrupted his thoughts. The guy was sitting in a folding chair outside the isolation cell, 'monitoring his condition.' "Water? Food? I know I asked on the shuttle, but it's been a few minutes. And if you need it, there's a...um...a latrine that comes out of the wall with a privacy barrier in the back left cor-"

"I know, Hendorff," Leonard rolled his eyes. "This is...this was my medbay. I know all the bells and whistles. And I'm fine. Khan gave me a big meal before I left. Better than anythin' I ever got here."

A little exaggeration there, but he wasn't feeling too charitable.

Right after punching Kirk, M'Benga'd stepped in, and told Hendorff to toss him in an isolation unit in the medbay. Well...he'd said "bring him to," not "toss him in," but in the end, the distinction hadn't mattered.

...Leonard really wished he hadn't panicked when Hendorff grabbed his arms. It hadn't helped anything. But it'd just...for a second, he forgot who was behind him, and he thought Khan was pissed at him, and…

But he really wished he'd been able to get himself back under control. Kirk didn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"Ya'll're feelin' pretty lazy today, aren't you?" Leonard stretched out on the bench along the isolation cell's back wall; tried to get comfortable. "Why haul me back n' forth from the brig ta do tests when there's a perfectly good place ta pen me in that's only twenty feet from a biobed, right? Or maybe ya just didn't wanna give me the chance ta tell the whole crew what Kirk did every time ya moved me? That it?"

"Nobody's taking you to the brig," Hendorff said. "We're just trying to give you some time to calm down."

"Oh, I'm plenty calm now." Calm enough to realize how screwed he was. "It's just that I get kinda riled up when a genocidal asshole tries ta get friendly."

"The captain's not…" Hendorff stopped; sighed. "Look, I don't know what Khan told you, but Captain Kirk has done nothing but try to-"

"No offense Hendorff," Leonard interrupted. "But even if ya think you're tellin' the truth, I know better. I've seen the scans. I saw Nitika's body. I heard _that_ part from Kirk's own mouth. I know what happened."

"No," the guard shook his head. "You don't. But I'm pretty sure I'm not the person to convince you of this stuff."

"Pretty damn doubtful."

Hendorff's face flashed with hurt; he turned out towards the main medbay.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. It wasn't quite awkward. More...tense. But the doctor didn't really feel like breaking it. His babysitter wouldn't even look at him. Why should he break up Hendorff's boredom if the guy didn't give enough of a damn to even-

"I...I'm so sorry, Doctor McCoy."

Leonard blinked; sat up.

...Where the hell had that come from?

"Sorry 'bout what?"

Hendorff turned back to him. His eyes were...misty. "When Khan blew up the Archer, I divided my teams between the cargo bay to help manage the Archer's crew, and a group to scour the Enterprise for bombs," Hendorff shook his head. "I didn't even think about Khan wanting to get to the medbay. Wanting to kidnap...I should've been there. I should've stopped him from taking you. If I'd been there-"

"You'd be dead," Leonard cut him off. He didn't like seeing Hendorff like this. Hadn't expected it, and didn't like it. Hendorff was supposed to be gruff, and imposing, and...and the guy really shouldn't blame himself for…for that. "Khan wasn't picky 'bout casualties back then. He woulda just killed you and walked over your body ta get to me."

Hendorff shook his head again. "But from what the witnesses said, he wasn't even armed! I could've-"

"One of the many things I've learned about Khan in the past two and a half months: he's _always_ armed," Leonard huffed. "I'm pretty sure he takes a phaser into the shower with him. Just because he didn't bother ta whip out a weapon in a room full of unarmed patients and med staff doesn't mean you'd've even had time ta lift your phaser before he dropped you. You'd be dead, and I would've still ended up..."

Leonard trailed off.

Why was he reassuring this guy? Hendorff had come down with Chapel. Khan called him her "protector." He'd _dragged_ Leonard into a damn cell! There was a good chance he was in on all of this. A good chance he'd…

But he didn't know that for sure, did he?

...Gideon told him not to jump to conclusions.

In the time Leonard had known him, all Hendorff had ever wanted to do was protect his crew. He could get a bit _over_ protective of people he cared about...sometimes to an asinine degree...but he'd always tried to help. The guy he'd known before...all this...would give his life for his crew in a heartbeat.

He almost had...more than once.

"...How's the kidney?" Leonard half-muttered. "Still no problems?"

Hendorff's mouth twitched into a small smile; he nodded. "All good. And the lung's working great too. Thanks for asking."

Good. That was...that was good.

"Did ya have ta run security during the talks?"

"Yeah," the lieutenant cringed. "There were a lot of Klingons aboard. I was pretty on edge."

Of course he'd been on edge. The last time Hendorff met a Klingon, he'd ended up skewered on the guy's _bat'leth._ It'd taken over an hour for Leonard's team to stop all the bleeding, and Hendorff'd spent weeks confined to the medbay while they grew his replacement parts…

Gideon knew how to do that now. He'd made sure of it before he left. If the Augments ever decided to fix what the Federation had taken from them, they'd be able to do it without a problem.

...How could Kirk had hurt them like that? How could Leonard not've seen that he was capable of it? How...

This wasn't helping him. Not now. He was trying to calm down. So they might let him out of his cell sometime in the next ten years. Thinking about Kirk was only going to rile him up again.

"...The Klingons give you any trouble?"

"Surprisingly, no," Hendorff shrugged. "Apparently their Chancellor gave them some pretty specific instructions for how they had to behave around us. That guy really wanted this treaty."

"Is their war with the Romulans goin' that badly?"

"I think they were more worried about fighting two wars at the same time," Hendorff replied. "Doesn't matter how strong an army is: if it's attacked from too many sides, eventually it'll cave. Nobody in the Federation wants a war with the Klingons. We're lucky they seem to feel the same."

"Amen to that, Lieutenant."

Leonard tensed; his head snapped in the direction of the new voice as Hendorff shot to his feet; stood at attention.

An admiral was walking towards the isolation cell. It only took him a second to peg her as the one that'd been standing with his 'welcome party.' She'd probably been there to intimidate him into keeping his mouth shut.

Hadn't quite gone to plan, had it?

Now, she had a PADD in one hand, and a box of tissues under the crook of her arm.

...A bit weird, but he'd seen weirder.

And it was pretty obvious why she was there.

Leonard glared at her. "You here ta read me the charges?"

The admiral frowned; tilted her head. "And what charges would those be?"

...Was she screwing with him?

He _really_ wasn't in the mood.

"Oh, you know," Leonard shrugged. "Assaulting a superior officer. Providing aid and comfort to the enemy. All kinds of treason. I bet y'all've got a list a mile long that ya'v just been dyin' ta rattle off at me."

"Interesting theory," the admiral nodded, then shook her head. "But you're not being charged with anything."

...What?

"I punched Kirk in the face," Leonard reminded her. "Ya really think he's gonna let somethin' like that slide?"

The admiral raised an eyebrow. "He's not mad at you. Kirk's feelings are a bit hurt, but he understands what's happened. You'd have to do a lot more than give your friend a broken nose before he would ever consider-"

"He's not my friend!" Leonard snapped. She wanted to do this? They'd do this. "He's a butcher. And if you spineless admirals are gonna help cover up the goddamn _war crimes_ Kirk committed against the Augments, then you're just as guilty as he is!"

He waited for her to get angry. Or offended. Anything to show that he'd hit a nerve.

The admiral just...frowned...at him for a moment; then turned to Hendorff. "Lieutenant, would you mind letting me into the isolation unit, and then stepping into the main medbay?"

... _What_?

Hendorff blinked at her. "Admiral, are you sure-"

"Very sure. Close it behind me, and go. I'll call for you when I want out. That's an order."

The guard glanced at him; then pressed something on the panel outside the isolation cell.

The forcefield dropped with a flash of sparks.

...What was happening? Why did she want in? What did she want to...

Leonard instinctively curled in on himself; tried to make himself small. This was probably some intimidation tactic the admirals had put together to keep his mouth shut, but that didn't mean he could fight back. He needed them to let him go at the end of this, so he could see Joanna again. He couldn't end up in a cell for the rest of his life. He couldn't...

The admiral picked up the guard's folding chair; stepped inside the isolation room. Hendorff put the forcefield up behind her, gave Leonard what was probably supposed to be a reassuring look; then obediently left just as he'd been ordered to do.

The doctor suppressed a wave of panic as he watched Hendorff go; as soon as the guard was out of sight Leonard's eyes snapped back to the admiral.

He was trapped in here. Trapped in with...whoever this was...and now there wasn't anybody else around.

What _did_ she want? Why did she send Hendorff away? Why…

He still wasn't sure exactly what this was, but he hated it already.

The admiral set the chair down close to the forcefield, as far from Leonard as she could possibly get; shifted the tissues to her lap as she sat down.

"I was going to introduce myself in the shuttle bay, but things got a little too exciting," she huffed; gave him a small smile. "My name is Doctor Katrina Cornwell. As you seem well aware, I'm an admiral, but that won't matter here. Disregard my insignia as much as you want. I've come to see you today because I have the absolute privilege of being Starfleet's Chief Counselor. I oversee matters related to our officers' mental, emotional and psychological wellbeing; and I also sometimes conduct debriefings and therapy sessions for officers who have been through traumatic events. That is the only reason I'm sitting in front of you right now. Not to charge you with anything, or to judge you for things you might've had to do while in Khan's custody. I'm here to help you process what's happened. If you'll let me."

...Oh.

...Right.

He...he knew this procedure. He'd never been on this end of it before, but he'd had to go through the training like every other CMO. In normal abduction cases, this was how Starfleet simultaneously gathered information on whoever had done the abducting, and helped the victim start to readjust to being free.

...But this was different. They knew who had taken him. They knew where he was. And they'd never get their hands on him, unless they wanted a war. And it wasn't about helping him "readjust," either. This was about making him see things from _their_ perspective. So he wouldn't go around telling anybody who would listen what the Federation had done to a group of political prisoners. They were just trying to cover their asses-

"Do you mind if I call you Leonard? Or would you prefer something more formal?"

...But that didn't mean he could get out of it. And there was no way in hell he was risking having her call him by his rank through this charade.

"...Leonard's fine."

"Alright, Leonard," Cornwell nodded. "How's your hand?"

Leonard grimaced; looked down at the bruises on his knuckles. He hadn't let them use the dermal regenerator on him. He didn't need their help. It'd heal fast enough on its own. "All ready to punch more genocidal assholes. Wouldn't happen ta know any, would you?"

"I sure as hell hope not," Cornwell didn't sound amused. "And if that's why you hit Kirk, then I hate to tell you, your aim was off."

And there it was.

A bit sooner than he thought she'd start, but apparently they were hopping right in.

"So you're really gonna feed me that line?" Leonard growled.

"It's not a line," Cornwell shook her head; sighed. "But we can come back to that. There's a few basics we need to cover first. Is that alright?"

...At least she wasn't pushing it...

"Whatever ya want," Leonard relaxed a little; shrugged. "S'not like I've got anywhere ta be."

"Alright then," the admiral tapped something on her PADD. "I need to get some baseline questions out of the way. I'm sure you remember how these things go?"

"...Yep."

Gotta make sure the patient's in a state where they can actually withstand a debriefing. Not confused, or delirious, or having a panic attack. He'd gotten a little iffy on that last one for a minute, but he was feeling better now. He knew where this thing was headed...and even if he still didn't like it...knowing helped a lot.

"Good," Cornwell tapped the PADD again; smirked. "Let's start with the one that always makes people roll their eyes: what's your full name?"

...At least she had a sense of humor. A small one. But still...

"Leonard Horatio McCoy."

"Current rank?"

Leonard grimaced. "No rank. I resign, effective immediately."

Cornwell shook her head. "Can't accept resignations during these things, Leonard. You know that just as well as I do. Current rank?"

...Dammit.

Just get this over with. Fast as possible.

"...Lieutenant Commander. Doctor. Starfleet Medical division. Assigned to the USS Enterprise as Chief Medical Officer."

"And your age?"

"Thirty four."

"Birthday?"

"January 20, 2227. Born in Atlanta, Georgia, USA, Earth."

"Your parents?"

"Doctor David McCoy, deceased, and Eleanora McCoy, currently living on a old farm in Georgia."

"Siblings?"

"...Henry, Landor, Melissa and Elizabeth McCoy, and Donna Withers, who's married to Fred Withers. I'm only close with Donna and Fred."

The others hadn't talked to him since he'd...since their dad died. They hadn't understood. Even though it was their father's explicit wishes, written down and made completely ethical and legal...they still hated him for it.

Only Donna, Fred, and his mom had forgiven him, whether he deserved it or not. The others pretended he'd kicked the bucket right along with their dad.

"Are you or have you ever been married?"

"I'm 'bout six years divorced from Jocelyn Darnell, who's since remarried."

"And children?"

"Joanna McCoy. Living with Donna and Fred."

"Not her mother?"

Leonard winced. "The divorce got...complicated. Jocelyn gave up custody. I knew I couldn't raise Joanna on my own. Donna and Fred were the best choice."

He'd cried when they agreed. He'd been terrified of them saying no…

He hoped they were okay. That Joanna was okay. That Starfleet hadn't scared them too badly during this whole mess...

"I see…" The admiral nodded again. "Anyone else you're close to? Other family? Friends?"

...That felt like a trick.

"If you're waitin' for me ta rattle off the names of my old crewmates, then you're gonna be in for a long night."

"I'm looking for honest answers," Cornwell shrugged. "If you can honestly say you don't consider anyone on the Enterprise to be your friend, then don't list them. It's up to you."

Leonard huffed; opened his mouth, ready to write off the entire crew...then stopped.

...Were _none_ of them his friends?

Kirk blew it big time, and Spock...Spock was on the bubble. Leonard found it hard to believe that if Kirk had had the Augments sterilized, Spock wouldn't've known about it. Those two ran the ship together; it'd be nearly impossible for only one of them to've been in on it. Especially with how much Khan seemed to hate Spock. That didn't come from nowhere.

...But they weren't the only people he'd known on the Enterprise. They weren't the only people he'd called…

Gideon had told him to not just push all his Starfleet friends away. He should probably figure out who those could even be...

"I guess...Scotty's my friend," Leonard admitted. He remembered how the man had once resigned to protest a mission he thought was dangerous, immoral and illegal. He wouldn't've ever hurt the Augments. He couldn't've known... "Montgomery Scott. The Chief Engineer. He's got a warm heart. I...He's a friend."

Cornwell's mouth twitched back into a smile. "I've met him. Good choice. Anyone else?"

"Well...um…"

...When he stopped to think about it...there actually were a few.

"Uhura," Leonard finally told her. "Lieutenant Uhura. We used ta eat lunch together a lot: me, her, and...the Captain and First Officer. She's got terrible taste in boyfriends, but she's a good person. Hikaru Sulu too. We've been tryin' ta set up a way for our girls ta become penpals, once Demora's a little older…"

At least, they had been before…

"And Keenser, down in Engineering. He doesn't say much, but you should read his poetry. And Ensign Chekov. The kid's a ball of sunshine wrapped in the brain of a genius..."

But if what Leonard had seen during the...Harulf incident...was any indication, the kid seemed to be getting pretty close with Chapel. That could be a problem. Chekov probably had no idea what kind of person she was, and if Leonard burst his bubble, the kid might hate him…

"Is that everyone?"

...Focus. One problem at a time.

"You get the idea," Leonard shrugged. "If ya really want me ta list every friend I've ever made, I probably could, but I have a feelin' you'd get ticked off when the Augment names started showin' up."

Cornwell frowned. "Why would that make me mad?"

"Because you people see 'em all as bloodthirsty terrorists," Leonard glared. "But they're not. They're a _civilization_. There's a doctor down there who nipped an immunodeficiency virus in the bud back on Earth. Probably saved millions of lives. And there's engineers too, and professors, and even a goddamn cricket player! They just want a chance ta live in peace for once!"

"And they're getting that chance," Cornwell told him. "The treaty has been ratified. They're a sovereign entity. As long as they don't attack us, we'll leave them to their own devices, and so will the Klingons. Nobody has any intention of interfering with their society."

"You really expect me ta believe that?"

"Not right now," the admiral shook her head. "You consider yourself a man of science, right?"

"'Course I do."

"Then I don't expect you to believe anything I say without concrete evidence to support it," Cornwell shrugged. "Hopefully, in time, you'll discover that I'm telling the truth."

...Oh.

Well...that was...kinda refreshing. Khan always got mad if he wouldn't take his word for...

...No.

No! She was a Starfleet admiral. He couldn't trust her. He couldn't…

...But they...they couldn't've all known. Some of them had to have consciences. Some of them...

Besides...no matter how he felt about it, he was going to have to live in Federation society. Even when they finally let him be a civilian again, that wouldn't change.

There just weren't any other good options. The Klingons were apparently willing to make deals with the Federation, but that didn't mean they were gonna start allowing random Humans to set up medical practices in their space. The Romulan government was _overtly_ authoritarian, as opposed to the Federation which at least _faked_ letting its people live freely. And the Orion government was...well...it was basically just a giant mafia, and Humans that got caught in their space usually ended up…worse than dead. Far worse.

And his daughter was here. He couldn't just...she needed a stable home, and if he wanted her to have that _and_ to be able to see her all the time, he couldn't leave.

So he'd have to play their games; to try, at the very least, to hold onto his medical license so he wouldn't have to start completely from scratch when he flipped Starfleet the bird.

"So you consider some of the Augments to be your friends?"

...He'd need people on his side. People who would say he was acting in his right mind when he quit. And Starfleet's Chief Counselor was as good a place to start as any.

If she hadn't been in on it. If she really meant any of what she said.

"A few of 'em," Leonard replied carefully. "Gideon Hawkins. The doctor. He started lookin' out for me the moment he woke up."

...After the accidental chokehold...but still. He'd just been scared.

Cornwell...didn't look angry. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"...Aiko," Leonard said. "She was a linguist before they left Earth, and she took me up on the offer ta start some basic medical training. She's incredibly witty, and it's hard not ta be in a good mood when she's...when she was around. And Basil, an engineer who liked ta pick my brain 'bout modern tech. And Nur, one of Khan's bodyguards...and Khan, of course."

Finally, Cornwell winced. "And how long would you say you spent with Khan?"

'...Spent with Khan.' How carefully worded. Not 'were held prisoner by,' or 'held hostage,' or…

She was trying to avoid upsetting him. That was part of the job. Not the best way to change the subject, but not something to get mad about either.

Leonard shrugged. "Eighty-one days, and 'bout a quarter of another."

Cornwell tilted her head. "That specific?"

"Were you expectin' me ta say it felt like years?" Leonard snorted. "Khan didn't just toss me in an empty room for two and a half months. He gave me things ta do. He let me have PADDs. They had the date and time on 'em. 'S'not like it was hard to keep track."

"What kind of PADDs were they?"

"Just medical PADDs mainly," Leonard shrugged again. "But he gave me one with books on it, too. Books I'd said I wanted ta read. He even let me keep a journal, which I'm sure ya've already started diggin' through."

"Actually, we haven't," Cornwell claimed. "We did find your journal on the PADD you brought back with you, and we had to scan the files to make sure there weren't any viruses in the coding that could hurt our systems, but one that was done, we only accessed the file with the bomb locations and codes. There were...a lot of them. Khan could've done some serious damage."

"But he didn't," Leonard pointed out. "He didn't wanna set 'em off. He didn't wanna kill people without bein' forced to. He just wanted his family back."

Cornwell paused; her brow knit together. "Leonard...what did Khan tell you about what he did when he wasn't on the Botany Bay?"

...What did that mean?

Leonard masked his nerves with a huff. "You really didn't read my journal, did you?"

"No one has," the admiral sounded sincere. "I know it would help me figure out some of what's happened to you...but I won't read it unless you give me permission. It wasn't written for me."

...He had to admit, that was a relief. If it was true.

But that wasn't the point. Not now.

"Well, I won't be givin' ya permission any time soon," Leonard told her. "But ta answer your question: I know he searched a group of secret Starfleet bases for members of his crew. And that Kirk set a trap for 'em at one of those bases, which ended up getting an innocent woman killed. How'm I doing so far?'

"...I see." She started tapping something into her PADD.

Leonard's eyes narrowed. "What's 'I see' supposed ta mean?"

"It's nothing that can't wait," the admiral shook her head. "I don't want to overwhelm you with-"

"No, tell me," Leonard demanded. "What's the propaganda? What are all y'all tellin' the universe that Khan did?"

Cornwell grimaced. "Leonard...Khan massacred those bases. He only left one survivor, and from what we've gathered, that was only because Khan's own people attacked him before he could finish his captive off. Everyone else, every officer, scientist, doctor and nurse...he just...he killed them all."

...No.

Khan wouldn't do that. He wouldn't! He…

He'd done that on Xedna Eight, hadn't he? He'd told Leonard that repeatedly.

A part of Leonard had just hoped that was the end of it. That he'd only done that because he needed to escape that base, and there wasn't another way to do that without risking being followed and...and Khan had told him he'd tried _not_ to kill people! That until that bomb went off, he'd only killed one per…

No. That wasn't right either. He'd said he'd only killed one person since Leonard saved his life. _After_ Khan came back with the knife wound.

Had he really just been wiping out entire bases before that? Had he ever even stopped?

...Wait.

Nitika died _after_ Khan got hurt.

This was his chance. He could prove she was trying to manipulate him. If Cornwell said Khan killed anyone on that base, then she was lying. He'd be positive of whose side she was really on.

"If what you're sayin's true," Leonard began slowly. "Then how many officers did Kirk sacrifice ta try and capture Khan?"

"Wh...what do you..." Cornwell looked...baffled. "None. Leonard, the base Captain Kirk used in his attempt to capture Khan was unmanned. Deliberately so. Kirk knew Khan's track record. He thought through everything he possibly could to keep anyone from getting hurt. It didn't go sideways because of anything he did."

...Well...part of that added up. But it was still bullshit.

"You're really gonna pretend Kirk's innocent?" Leonard glared. "I almost died because of what that asshole did on that base. Don't try ta tell me he's some kind of saint. I know better."

Cornwell frowned. "Leonard, what do you mean, you almost died? None of our sensors showed you being anywhere near that facility. What happened?"

The doctor froze.

...Crap.

Talked himself right into that one, hadn't he?

If he tried to change the subject, she'd probably start pushing. It was better to just...just give her something, so this didn't get any worse.

"I...I wasn't there," Leonard admitted. "But do ya have any idea how pissed off people get when someone they love was just murdered in front of 'em?"

Cornwell's eyes widened. "You're talking about the woman in the cryotube, aren't you?"

"Her _name_ was Nitika," Leonard scowled. "Do ya know what happens to someone when a cryotube shuts down mid-revival? When all the life support systems get cut off at once? They start ta _defrost_ at a rate their bodies can't handle. And when someone tries ta move 'em, they can _break_. You try tellin' an Augment that their friend's _brain_ shattered during their rescue. See how that goes."

The admiral winced. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. It wasn't-"

"Don't give me that crap," Leonard groaned. "If you admirals gave a _damn_ about me, you wouldn't've ordered Kirk ta shut down the goddamn cryotube in the first place!"

"That's what Khan told you? That we intentionally shut off-"

"No, he said _he_ did it for kicks," Leonard crammed as much sarcasm in his voice as he could. "You goddamn hypocrites. You _cowards_ were so scared of the unknown that you murdered an innocent woman rather than see what she could become. Well, guess what? You murdered an artist! Just a freakin' _sculptor_ who took a risk and left Earth, 'cause she thought stayin' was suicide! That's who Nitika was. And your friend _Alston_ had Kirk cut off her life support without so much as a hearing. Do ya still think Kirk didn't deserve ta get decked?"

Cornwell sighed. "Look Leonard, I can see where you were coming from. But I think the version of events Khan gave you is...incomplete. It's missing a few key details."

"Oh really?" Leonard let out a dry laugh. "And what _'details'_ could possibly make what you people did ta Nitika be okay?"

" _Nothing_ makes what happened to her okay," Cornwell seemed to believe it. "What happened to Nitika is a tragedy. It is a stain on the Federation that one of our officers gave that order. But you need to know that Captain Kirk refused Admiral Alston's command. He risked losing everything to protect that woman."

Leonard stared.

...No.

That...that wasn't...that didn't make...

"Whaddaya mean, he refused the order?"

"I mean Admiral Alston gave James T. Kirk an illegal order to shut down that cryotube, and the captain nearly got into a fistfight with him over it," Cornwell raised an eyebrow; shook her head. "Hell, if I'd've been there, I'm not sure I would've shown Kirk's restraint. But it didn't come to that. Commander Spock took matters into his own hands...well...hand…before it could, and…"

The admiral mimed pinching a pressure point on her neck.

...Was...was she saying...

"So you're expectin' me ta believe _Spock_ shut down the cryotube?" Leonard gaped. "Spock knocked Kirk out, and carried out Alston's order ta-"

"Nonono," Cornwell put up a hand to stop him. "Spock pinched _Alston_. He told us later that it was the only 'logical' thing he could think of to quickly end the standoff. A risky move. One that could have ended his career if there hadn't been enough evidence to support his version of events. But both Captain Kirk and Commander Spock tried to save Nitika. They did everything they could."

...God, that sounded like...like what he remembered of them. Of who he thought they were. Of what they would do to protect someone who was in their care.

He wanted to believe it. He wanted to…

But just because he _wanted_ it to be true, didn't make it true.

...They were just trying to get him back on their side. They'd say anything to keep him quiet.

"If what you're sayin's true…" Which it wasn't. It...it just wasn't. "Then how the hell did Nitika die?"

"Khan panicked." She said it without a hint of hesitation. "Kirk had offered him a deal: Khan's surrender and your safe return, in exchange for an independent colony for the Augments. And Khan agreed. He was ready to give himself up...Then, he overheard Alston give Kirk that order, and heard them start to argue, and concluded that the deal we offered him was a lie. He tried to revive Nitika and escape, but in the process he set off a device that was meant to disable the facility's shields. He didn't know there was a defect in Nitika's cryotube. The casing that would've protected its components from his weapon was full of microfractures. And so when he set off his em pulse, the cryotube's systems went haywire, and sealed shut. In the aftermath, we found evidence that Khan used an explosive to force the thing open...and I believe that's what caused the damage you described. If he'd waited until the revival process was complete before setting that device off, Nitika would probably be alive. Kirk didn't kill her, Leonard. Khan did. Accidentally. But it was him."

...No. That wasn't what'd happened. It wasn't possible. It wasn't...

Khan had said he'd had to break into the cryotube, but he wouldn't've risked cutting off power to the thing. He would have waited. He would've made sure...

But Khan also wasn't the most patient guy. If he hadn't known the cryotube was defective...if he'd just tried to speed things along, and get back to the Botany Bay before anyone realized what was happening, maybe he _had…_

This is what they wanted him to be thinking, wasn't it? They wanted him to blame Khan for everything. To ignore all the crap they'd done that led to this.

"...Interesting story," Leonard forced himself to snort. "You're really plannin' on me just takin' your word for all this, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Cornwell shook her head. "Like I said before, I don't expect you to believe anything I say without proof. Which is why, when I reviewed that...ransom video...Khan sent us, I had a copy made of the footage of the Alston incident. It shows everything that happened on that base, up until the moment Khan sets off his device. And there's an accompanying audio feed of what was happening on the bridge at the same time. I have it on this PADD, if you ever want to-"

"No," Leonard cut in. This was ridiculous. This was...it was wrong. They were trying to manipulate him. "That recording doesn't mean crap and you know it. You've had _months_ ta doctor that footage. You're just tryin' ta turn me against him. Ta drag him through the mud. Ta make him into something worse than what he is."

Cornwell cringed again; set the PADD on her lap; leaned forward.

"I know you're upset, Leonard. And I know that right now, you have absolutely no reason to trust me. But full disclosure: in my mind, after the...things...Khan has openly confessed to doing to you...I don't think his reputation can get much worse."

"And what the hell's that supposed ta…"

Leonard trailed off as a memory flashed through his mind.

...Kirk warning Khan that torturing him wouldn't help anything.

Khan cutting him off, then...

...Oh.

Oh god.

The kisses.

Those two freakin' pecks on the cheek that Khan had sworn were just meant to keep the negotiations from getting caught up in stupid questions. Because who the hell would keep asking for details when _that's_ the implication?

Well, it'd worked. Too damn well.

And now his goddamn _counselor_ was operating under the assumption that he and Khan had…that Khan had made him…

God, they _all_ thought that, didn't they? They all thought the reason he was still alive was because…

He didn't want them thinking that. He didn't want his friends thinking...

"It never happened," Leonard told her firmly. "He was just messin' with you. With Kirk. He never... _that_ never happened."

Cornwell didn't respond right away. For an infuriating moment, the doctor was sure there was pity in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Leonard," the admiral sounded like she meant it. "I shouldn't have brought it up. We don't have to talk about that now if you don't want to-"

"'S'not a matter of not _wantin'_ ta talk about it," Leonard's voice cracked with frustration. "There's nothin' ta talk _about_! What you're accusin' Khan of right now, that's something he never did. Not once. Not ever. He just told Kirk that ta make 'em stop askin' questions 'bout why I was still alive. He _never_ crossed that line. So just drop it!"

"Alright," Cornwell held up her hands in placation. "If that's what you want, then I'll respect it. We'll drop the subject for-"

"How about _forever_? Cause there's nothin' to it."

There really _wasn't_. He knew what Khan'd implied. But it wasn't true. Why wouldn't she believe him?

"If that's really what you want," Cornwell agreed. "I don't want to put words in your mouth, Leonard. And I don't want to force you to talk about anything that...sensitive; especially when my knowledge of that particular situation is, admittedly, based on hearsay. I'll respect your boundaries. I won't bring it up again."

...Okay.

Good. That...that was good.

If she really stopped pushing...that...then maybe this whole thing could be bearable.

"Sounds fantastic," Leonard pointed to the PADD. He needed to get her as far away from that topic as he could. "What's next on your checklist?"

"That depends on you," Cornwell said. "What do you think I need to know first? What do you think would be the most helpful?"

...Was she serious, or was this some kind of trap?

Whatever he said, it could be twisted around into something he didn't mean. If he talked about how hard it had been at first, she might use it to say Khan had tortured him into submission. If he told her about his escape attempt, and Khan choosing to save his life rather than hurt him anymore, it'd give her evidence that he'd been manipulated into hating the Federation.

Which wasn't true. He...he just knew right from wrong, and what the Federation had done to the Augments was wrong. He had every right to be disgusted by them.

...Why did they have to do this at all? Why did she want him to relive the past two and a half months? Why was she making him think about all the crap he'd been shoving to the back burner for some pretty damn good reasons?

He didn't want to do this. Not now. Not ever. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Can...can we take a break instead?" Leonard absently wrung his hands. "I want a break."

"Do you really want a break, or are you just trying to get out of this?" Goddammit, she was quick. "Because if this is really too much for you right now, I can come back later. But you can't get out of this debriefing, Leonard. Eventually, we'll have to complete it, and for your sake, that needs to happen sooner rather than later."

The doctor tensed.

...That sounded suspiciously like a threat.

"Really?" Leonard scowled. "And why's that?"

He braced himself for the worst. After all, she was an admiral. She had the pull to make his life hell.

...Was that who she was? Would she do that to him if he refused to keep playing this game?

"Leonard, we have to complete the debriefing because I won't be able to determine if and when it's safe to let you out of this room until it's over." Cornwell's voice was firm, but there was a soft edge to it. "I know you're frustrated, and confused, and that right now, this probably seems more like an interrogation than therapy. But please: try to remember how these things go. I swear, I really am trying to help you."

...Damn it.

She was right. Part of him _did_ keep forgetting exactly what this was supposed to be.

If-and it was still a big _if-_ -Cornwell wasn't in on the conspiracy, and she really was just there for a debriefing and the beginning of his therapy, then all the stuff he'd rattled off at her probably made her think he had Stockholm syndrome, or PTSD. Maybe a bit of both... _probably_ a bit of both.

In that case, her first priority would be to make sure he didn't present a 'danger to himself or others,' as the classical saying went. Ethically, she _couldn't_ let him out of observation if she thought he'd hurt someone, and given that he'd already decked his old captain, she already had plenty of evidence to support that.

Fighting every step of the way wasn't going to help him get out of there. It would just get him sectioned, and sent to 'treatment' for who knew how long. He was hurting himself.

"I...guess I can keep goin' a bit longer," Leonard begrudgingly admitted. "Just...can you please stop talkin' 'bout Khan like he's some kind of monster? 'S'not like he _likes_ hurtin' people. He only did what he had to ta save his family."

Cornwell stilled. She closed her eyes for a moment; drew in a deep breath; let it out. "Leonard...this might be too soon, but I was wondering if you would be willing to give me a few details about the fate of Lieutenant Jason Nimble."

...Who?

Why was she changing the subject? Was she intentionally trying to mess with his head, or was she really so afraid that what she'd been spoonfed about Khan was wrong that she'd panicked, and blurted out some random name to get him away from that topic? In either case, she wasn't doing her job.

"Really?" Leonard huffed. "And why would I know anything about the 'fate of Lieutenant Jason Nimble?'"

"Because Khan told us that you begged for his life," Cornwell deadpanned. "Nimble was a pilot whose ship Khan stole during the first month of his escape. Khan said you tried to convince him to let Nimble be your assistant. Or was he lying about that as well?"

...Oh.

Leonard's stomach sank.

The pilot.

That's who she meant.

And just like that, memories Leonard had tried so hard to block out sprang back to the surface of his mind.

Screams in the middle of the night.

Khan covered in blood.

A "gift" of stolen Saurian brandy, sticky with blood and…

"His name was Jason?" Leonard asked quietly.

"You didn't know?"

"I...I never met 'em," the doctor grimaced. "He...he wasn't around long."

"Leonard," Cornwell leaned in, a grim expression on her face. "Jason Nimble had a family. Three kids. A wife named Rose. They deserve to know what happened to-"

"No!" Leonard snapped. "Don't you dare. They can't know."

"Know _what_?"

...Jason Nimble.

He _knew_ the guy had a family. He couldn't save him. He couldn't do anything to stop…

That poor man. That poor, poor...

"Khan…" Leonard's voice cracked; he cleared his throat; quietly started again. "Khan wanted intel on the p...on Nimble's supply routes. I...I don't know all he did to him ta get it, but I know it wasn't...pleasant."

"Any details you remember will be helpful."

"Helpful for what?" Seriously, what the hell was the point? "It's'not gonna bring him back, and believe me, it's'not gonna make his family feel any better. Just tell 'em Khan dropped him the second he boarded the ship, and be done with it."

"Is that what happened?"

"No, but it's way better than the truth!"

"And what is the truth?"

Leonard gritted his teeth; tried to force the memory of those screams out of his head.

Maybe it hadn't been as bad as it sounded. Maybe Khan'd just been trying to scare him, and it was _him_ screaming all along. Maybe-

"Leonard. What did Khan do to Jason?"

...Who was he kidding? Just because he hated the truth, didn't mean it hadn't happened.

Cornwell wasn't going to let him get away with not answering. And maybe Nimble's family did deserve the truth. That...that didn't have to be his decision to make. Not if he just...

"He...burned off the pil...Nim...Jason's fingers," Leonard quietly confessed; stared down at his own. "That's what he told me, but he had to've done more than that, 'cause I woke up in the middle of the night, and heard screams, and I thought somebody'd tried ta attack the ship, and called out to try and find out what was goin' on, and Khan came inta the medbay drenched in blood, and gave me a-a bottle of Saurian brandy, and told me what he was doin,' and I...I tried ta get 'em ta let Jason live! I swear I tried! I told Khan Jason could be my assistant; that I'd teach him what he needed ta know to...and Khan said no, and threatened ta go after my family if I didn't shut up, and so I did, and then he left and…I don't know what he did, but the screaming started again, and I drank the brandy till I passed out so I didn't have ta hear it. I...I didn't wanna hear it. I couldn't help him, and I..."

When had he started crying? Somewhere along the line, Leonard's breaths had turned to sobs; hot tears streamed down his face, but he'd found it impossible to stop talking until the whole story was out.

Jason Nimble. Khan had _butchered_ Jason Nimble for information the man probably didn't even realize he had. He didn't have to do it. He didn't…

...That was why he'd needed Leonard to help with repairs to the ship. That's why he'd had to go out onto the hull, and-

There was movement in his blurry vision; coming towards him fast.

Leonard scrambled away; pressed himself into the corner of the bench; tried to make himself small; waited for the…

For the what?

What...what did he think was happening?

The doctor looked up; saw Admiral Cornwell standing in front of him with a box of tissues.

"I'm sorry Leonard," Cornwell's face was pinched with regret. "I thought you heard me ask if I could come over. I thought I saw you nod. I...I just wanted to give you these. Is it alright if I set them next to you?"

...Had she said something to him? Had he been so caught up in his head that he hadn't even heard her question?

"'S'Fine. Leave 'em. Please."

The admiral slowly set the tissues down; backed away; sat down again.

Leonard grabbed a tissue; blew his nose as he tried to calm himself down.

...He couldn't be so jumpy. Not if he ever wanted out of here. Why couldn't he just keep it together? Why was he so goddamn weak, that he couldn't even stop himself from-

"Why the he'll's wrong with me?" Leonard whispered. "Why am I spillin' my guts ta some goddamn admiral? Why…"

"I think you know why, Leonard," Cornwell's voice cut through his muttering. "I think your subconscious has been wanting this chance to vent for a long time. It's needed it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I doubt Khan let you tell the other Augments what he was doing to you."

...He hadn't, had he? Khan had even threatened to bring back the...the water...if he told them…

But that time, he _had_ just been trying to scare him. To get the point across about how bad an idea it was to tell everyone and their mother his sob story. It was...it was just to protect him.

"'Let's' the wrong word." Leonard's breathing was finally coming back under control. "Some of the Augments woulda taken it as permission to hurt me. It was too dangerous ta tell 'em 'bout what used ta happen."

"Used to happen?"

...Right. She didn't know. How could she know.

They probably thought every day he'd spent with Khan was as bad as the...video...Khan had made him make. They had no way to know how much Khan had changed.

"He stopped...hurting me...after I tried ta escape," Leonard forced himself to explain. "When he caught me, I thought...I thought he was gonna kill me. But somethin' happened that made him change his mind, and he saved me instead."

"And why was that?"

The doctor opened his mouth to give her a sarcastic answer, but froze instead.

...What _had_ made Khan change his mind?

...Oh god. Had he seriously never gotten a straight answer about that?

Why the hell had Khan let him live? It would've made more sense if he was someone like...like Jason. Somebody who'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was more useful alive than dead. But Khan killed Jason, and saved Leonard.

It didn't make any goddamn sense. Khan had _hated_ him at first! He'd _enjoyed_ hurting him. It was his revenge for the blood sample; for saving that bastard Kirk's life. And before the escape attempt, any other resistance Leonard had showed had been met with agony. Khan had grinned down at him while he poured water over Leonard's face. When he'd begged for it to stop, the guy'd pet his hair, then as soon as he started to calm down, another rush of wather'd come crashing down. He couldn't stop it. It was so cold. It was...

It should've been a no-brainer. He should've been scattered in little pieces on that sulfuric moon; melted into glass when the Klingons attacked. But for practically the first time since he'd known the man, Khan had showed _mercy_. He'd even cured him of his goddamn xenopolycythemia!

Why? Why was he alive? Why hadn't Khan killed him after he'd fought back so hard, and nearly gotten them both blow to bits? Why did he get to walk away from this with his life-and an Augment's immune system to boot-when innocent people like Jason and Nitika were dead and buried?

"I...I don't know," Leonard confessed; the tears began flowing harder down his cheeks again. "He...he never told me why. And it's not the kind of question you push for an answer for. Not unless ya wanna risk accidentally changin' his mind. I just...I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It never made sense. I'm sorry. I don't…"

"It's okay," Cornwell reassured him. "There's absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You've gone through a lot, Leonard. It must be so hard to process right now. But we'll figure this out. It's just going to take time. Now, if you want, we can-"

Leonard burst into giggles.

He couldn't help it. Something Cornwell said made another memory flash through his mind, and it was just too perfect. It just-

"Leonard, what is it?"

The tone in her voice made him glance over at her again. She looked confused...and more than a little alarmed.

...It was probably not a good idea to give his counselor an aneurysm. Not in their first session, at least. Something told him there were going to be a lot of them.

After another moment, Leonard took a deep breath; forced his lingering giggles to subside; gave Cornwell a look he hoped portrayed even a fraction of the irony of the situation.

"' _It's gonna take time._ ' Ya know, Admiral: at one point, Khan started makin' me tell him stories 'bout my life. Really personal stories. And I really, really didn't want to. So he told me it'd make it easier for him ta stop hurting me...and then he said almost the _exact_ same thing you just did."


	74. Chapter 74

This was going to be hard.

They'd all known that. Objectively, M'Benga knew how difficult it could be for a kidnapping victim to readjust; to sort out the reality of what had been done to them, as opposed to what their captor had forced them to accept. And for the victim's friends, it was a challenge just to figure out how to help without accidentally making things worse.

There was no one right way. It would probably take a slightly different approach from each of them to-

"Doctor?"

M'Benga blinked; gave his patient an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Spock. It's been a long morning. Could you please repeat your question?"

"I am still failing to see the logic in Leonard's actions." Spock's tone was even as he sat stiffly on a couch in M'Benga's office, but after two months of these sessions, the doctor could tell just how frustrated the half-Vulcan really was. "I understand why he would appear to side with his captor while a prisoner, but he is no longer under Khan's control. Why does he continue to act as if we are his enemy?"

"...Ah."

That was...complicated.

"Spock," M'Benga searched for the right words. "I know this might not seem logical to you. But there's a pretty established precedent for it in the study of Human psychology. When a trauma bond forms, the victim can't always see what's being done to them. Their main objective becomes survival, both physical and mental, and if making the abuser seem like the hero in their situation accomplishes that, then sometimes that's exactly what they'll do. They lose sight of the fact that they're being manipulated. That they're still being hurt. Sometimes it's the only way they can cope. It may not be _objectively_ logical, but it's perfectly logical to someone in that situation. And it's a difficult mindset to leave behind."

"...As you have said before." The corners of Spock's lips twitched downward; he leaned forward. "Doctor...if I cannot appeal to Leonard through my normal logical methods, then how am I supposed to help him?"

...That was always the question, wasn't it?

"The best thing you can do right now is respect his agency," M'Benga told him. "We don't know all Doctor McCoy went through when he was with Khan. We might never know. But it's a safe bet to assume he hasn't had much in the way of privacy for the past couple months. Or free will. So if he agrees to talk to you, you can't push him so see things your way. Ignoring his boundaries will just reinforce whatever Khan's made him believe about us."

"And if he refuses to talk to me?"

"Then you can try again later." Hopefully. "This is going to take time, Spock. Doctor McCoy was only released last night. And given that he's spent most of his time since then in an isolation cell, he's probably not feeling very free yet. We need to show him that we care, and that we are not going to ignore his wishes. I think it's the only chance we have of regaining his trust. And if we're lucky-"

" _Doctor M'Benga?"_

M'Benga glanced at the comm panel on his desk; gave Spock an apologetic look; activated it.

"Yes, Doctor Chapel?"

" _You asked me to tell you when it started again...and it has."_

...Not the best timing, but there wasn't really any way to time something like that.

"Thank you Chapel," M'Benga thought for a second; made the call. "Would you mind telling Admiral Cornwell that Doctor McCoy is about to wake up...and then take a long lunch. Please."

" _Yeah...I'll stay out of your hair. Chapel out."_

The comm line cut out; M'Benga turned back to Spock. "I don't want to cut our session short, but-"

"Seeing to Leonard's wellbeing is a higher priority than our conversation," Spock paused. "In fact, I believe I will...feel better...knowing you are looking after him."

That made M'Benga smile. The first officer still wasn't an all-star at expressing his emotions, but since their sessions had started, he'd at least started admitting that he _had_ them. It was a good step to see.

"Alright," the doctor nodded. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Unless my duties prevent it," Spock agreed; rose as M'Benga did. "Thank you, doctor."

"Any time."

The main medbay was practically empty: no patients for once, and all the other doctors and nurses had either gone to lunch or retreated to their offices to catch up on their paperwork. It was almost eerie, how quiet the room was.

M'Benga picked up a PADD and tricorder from storage, then headed back to the isolation cells. There were monitors built directly into the room to pick up basic vitals, but if things went the way they really needed to, then in a few minutes M'Benga would be giving his patient a much more thorough physical than those could offer.

They'd postponed it too long already. It should've happened right after McCoy was brought up to the Enterprise. But he'd just been so upset, and hadn't even let them look at his hand after…

One night of sleep wasn't going to change the results. Not when they'd already done the preliminaries in the shuttle. It was better to let the man rest for a night.

...Or, at least, try to rest.

M'Benga heard the first whimper right before he crossed the bulkhead separating the main medbay from the isolation cells. It was like something a small animal would make. One that had gotten caught in an ancient snare, and was desperately trying to fight its way free.

The whimper turned into a sob as Doctor McCoy came into view. The man was curled in on himself in the middle of the cell's cot; he was clutching his pillow against his chest; twitching and crying in his sleep.

...Whatever was going on in his friend's head...it wasn't good.

The security officer on duty was one of their newer additions, and it was showing. There was a look of definite panic in his eyes. He'd clearly followed his standing orders not to try to snap McCoy out of his nightmare, but it'd probably been a close call.

"Ensign Vargas," M'Benga beckoned the security officer away from the cell; kept his voice low. "How long's he been like this?"

"About five minutes that I've seen," Vargas said quietly. "Hendorff had me relieve Miller an hour ago. He said Doctor McCoy tossed and turned all night. Had more than one nightmare. Kinda freaked Miller out."

...Not just Miller.

"I know," M'Benga grimaced. "It's nothing we weren't expecting, but it can be hard to watch."

"Should we wake him up?" Vargas asked nervously. "Doctor Chapel told me not to, but he doesn't seem to be...wouldn't it be better to just-"

"No," M'Benga shook his head. "Not unless it looks like he might hurt himself. There's no telling how he'd react. Besides, if last night was any indication, he should be-"

McCoy sat upright with a gasp. He kicked away his pillow and blankets in a scramble to press his back into a corner; once there, his confused eyes darted around the isolation cell for a few seconds before finally focusing on them.

"...M...M'Benga?" There was so much uncertainty in that voice. So much stress, and worry, and fear...

"It's okay, Doctor McCoy," M'Benga smiled kindly; approached the isolation cell. "Just breathe. You're back on the Enterprise. You're safe."

"...Safe," McCoy repeated; forced himself to take a deep breath; let it out as a nervous laugh. "Ya really think I'll ever be safe? Ya really think I won't have ta spend the rest of my life lookin' over my shoulder?"

"No one's gonna hurt you, Doc," Vargas spoke up before M'Benga could. "We got you away from those assholes. They'll never get near you again."

McCoy...cringed. "Wasn't talkin' 'bout the Augments, Ensign. You're pretty green. Only outta the Academy 'bout six months ago. There's no way you're in the loop on this, so I don't blame you for thinkin' what you think, but please...just don't."

Vargas blinked in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The situation is...complicated," M'Benga cut in. "There's some...issues that still need to be addressed."

"That's puttin' it mildly," McCoy glared up at him. "After the crap you pulled, I can't believe you think I'd…"

The doctor trailed off; his head tilted; he stared at something behind M'Benga.

"What the hell are you doin,' Spock?"

...Wait...what?

M'Benga turned...and saw the tip of the First Officer's ear peeking out from behind the bulkhead leading to the main medbay.

...Crap.

They'd _just_ talked about this. This was _not_ how this reunion was supposed to go.

"I apologize, Doctor McCoy." Spock stepped away from the bulkhead; walked closer to the isolation cell. "I...wanted to see how you were adjusting...however I was unsure if my presence would be appreciated."

"...Uh-huh," McCoy didn't looked convinced. "And is Kirk back there too? Or was he too ashamed ta show his face?"

"The captain does not intend to visit unless you give him permission in advance," Spock said. "He is concerned that, given your last encounter, his unexpected appearance might upset-"

"Yeah, well, he's right," McCoy growled. "And your 'unexpected appearance' ain't much better."

"It is not my intention to-"

"Well, you are. Go tell Kirk that if he doesn't have the guts ta face me himself, then sendin' you ta spy on me's'not gonna cut it either."

"I promise, Doctor, I was not-"

"Save it. I'm not in the mood for a debate. 'Specially not with you."

Spock...didn't react right away. He just stood there, brows slightly arched, staring at his old friend. After a moment, he closed his eyes; took a deep breath; let it out. "...I understand. If you ever change your mind, Leonard, know that I will be more than willing to return."

Then Spock turned abruptly, and all but ran out.

McCoy stared after him, wide-eyed; mouth slightly open. After an awkward moment of silence, he let out a dry laugh.

"Three goddamn years, and I think that's the first time the hobgoblin's ever called me Leonard."

...At least, to his friend's face. It was practically the only name Spock used for McCoy during their sessions...

"He's worried about you," M'Benga confessed. "And the captain didn't send him here."

They'd bumped into each other when Kirk was coming out of his session, but Spock had shown up a little early. It was just one of those days.

"Oh yeah? Then why the hell was Spock in the medbay?"

...Nope. Can't get into that.

"That's not something I can talk about."

McCoy blinked; his brow pinched in surprise. "Wait...do you...are you sayin' he was here for-"

"Not something I can talk about," M'Benga repeated, knowing that the implication was clear, and that his old friend knew enough about doctor-patient confidentiality to not ask again. Especially not in front of Vargas. "But he did want to see you. I think he just didn't expect it to go...quite like that."

He hoped Spock was alright. That couldn've gone much worse...but it still hadn't been great.

"...Right," McCoy didn't sound convinced. "So let me guess: it's time for you ta start pokin' and proddin' at your new lab rat?"

"Seriously?" Ensign Vargas muttered under his breath.

M'Benga shot him a disapproving look. "Ensign, would you mind waiting outside the medbay for a bit?"

The ensign began to flush. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"I need to run some things by Doctor McCoy," M'Benga continued patiently. "Things we need privacy for. Trust me when I say you'll be able to hear me if I need you. Please, go."

Vargas muttered an apology to the floor; left without looking back at his charge.

The doctor turned back to his patient. "Doctor McCoy, I need-"

"Leonard."

M'Benga blinked. "What?"

"You're gonna treat me like a person," the patient scowled, but there was fear in his eyes. "Whatever you're gonna do ta me, I want you to use my first name. Ya don't get to hide my humanity behind a title. Got it?"

...Was that what Khan had done? Had he spent two and a half months calling Doctor Mc…calling Leonard by his title, and nothing else?

M'Benga had been planning to use that title as a sign of respect. But if it'd taken on the opposite meaning in Leonard's mind…

It could also be a way to establish boundaries. To see if M'Benga had any intention of following his patient's wishes.

In any case, there was really only one way to handle this.

"Alright, Leonard," M'Benga nodded. "I can do that. But I want to make it clear: you're not a lab rat, and I will fight anyone who dares to even _think_ about turning you into one."

Leonard gave him a skeptical look. "M'Benga, I've got the cure ta xenopolycythemia runnin' through my veins. Along with god-knows what other diseases. Somebody's gonna wanna study me."

"Not without your permission," M'Benga promised. "Bodily autonomy still means everything to Starfleet medical."

That made Leonard snort. "Sure, they care 'bout bodily autonomy...till there's a chance ta revive their Golden Boy usin' stolen blood. Then they just kinda look the other way, don't they?"

The doctor stared. "Leonard...Khan had just crashed a starship into San Francisco, and you were desperate to save your best friend-"

"He's not my friend!" Leonard snapped; grimaced. "Look M'Benga, if you're really tryin' ta help, I appreciate it. But for the love of God, I just woke up. Give me a minute before you start in."

...Oh.

Right.

M'Benga winced. "Sorry. I've just been up awhile; it makes it easy to forget about morning-grogginess...even when I just saw you wake up."

"Pull an all-nighter?"

"No," the doctor smirked; shook his head. "I got plenty of sleep, under the circumstances. But you've been out far longer than we thought you'd be. And we wanted to let you sleep in, if you were able to."

"Sure," Leonard rolled his eyes. "And how'd I do?"

"It's a quarter-past noon, so you tell me."

Leonard gawked. "That long?"

"I have a feeling you needed it."

"I...It's been awhile since I slept much past six." Finally, Leonard uncurled himself from his corner; let his slippered feet touch the floor. The man'd refused so much as a change of clothes since his rescue... "Had too much ta do."

"Then you definitely needed the rest," M'Benga repeated. "Why don't we get you some breakfast? Is there anything you've been craving-"

"Not hungry yet," Leonard shook his head. "I'm actually a little...nauseous. Didn't have the best dreams."

"Do you want to talk about them?"

"...Where's Doctor Cornwell?"

"She'll be here soon," M'Benga promised. "Like I said: it's lunchtime. She's probably still in the mess hall, trying to peel herself away from one of Scotty's odes to the engines."

Leonard's mouth twitched. "Wouldn't surprise me...Are we still in orbit 'round Khan's moon?"

"We left last night," M'Benga told him. "Part of the treaty: we had to leave pretty much as soon as you set foot aboard. The Klingons too. The Augments are on their own for six months."

"Unless somebody circles back ta wipe 'em out," Leonard grumbled. "Not like anybody'd know. Or care."

"They'll be alright," M'Benga assured him. "I've been told that two satellites have been placed in orbit around the Augment's moon: one by the Federation, and one by the Klingons. And the Augment's sensors might be limited, but they can still detect ships. All sides will know immediately if anyone tries to break the treaty."

Leonard's eyes narrowed. "So we're spyin' on the Augments now? Is that how this is gonna work?"

...That was one way to look at it. Not the most _accurate_ way...but an understandable way.

"D...Leonard...Khan agreed to the satellites. He knows how vulnerable the colony is. He and Captain Kirk hashed out the details of how they would be operated and maintained while the admirals worked with the Klingons to-"

"Stop," Leonard grimaced. "Look, I don't care what the official line is: don't try ta tell me Khan would ever sit down an' chat with that psychopath. I thought you were better than that."

...Alright...that stung.

What _exactly_ had Khan told him? What could possibly be making Leonard so angry? What could he have said or done to make Leonard hate _Kirk_?

...In this situation, M'Benga was Leonard _medical_ doctor, not his counselor. And although those two fields could overlap at times, and M'Benga had the training for both, it was a better idea to let Admiral Cornwell work to deconstruct Khan's narrative. She was more removed from the situation. She could be more objective.

"If you're serious about holding off on breakfast, then do you mind if I start some basic scans?" M'Benga held up his tricorder. "Just to make sure your vitals are still as healthy as they were yesterday?"

"I've never been healthier," Leonard claimed. "Khan made sure of that."

...That was one way to put it.

M'Benga made himself shrug. "Maybe, but you also punched Captain Kirk hard enough to break his nose. I'd like to make sure your hand's alright."

Leonard's eyes flicked to his colorful knuckles; his shoulders slumped.

"...Only if Chapel doesn't help," There were traces of fear in his voice. "I don't want her anywhere near me. Understand?"

M'Benga winced. "I have a feeling Khan doesn't like her very much. Am I right?"

"He has a damn good reason not to."

...Yeah. That was...fair.

He'd _finally_ had a few sessions with Doctor Chapel. She told him about the orders Admiral Yearling had given her team on Xedna Eight. Even though she'd refused some of it, and gotten shipped off of the edge of a black hole to keep her from sounding the alarm to Starfleet Medical...she'd still done some pretty unethical things.

But she was trying to make up for it. And she had lost so much, and the way Khan had treated her on that moon was…

Leonard didn't need to hear that. It wouldn't help anything. Not yet.

"Chapel's out to lunch," M'Benga told him instead. "She won't be back for awhile. It'd just be the two of us, and maybe Nurse Tehs if necessary, since he's already aware of the transfusions Khan gave you. We'll keep that as quiet as we can."

Hendorff and Chekov had already sworn not to tell anyone, and everyone else who knew were bound by confidentiality laws. As long as whatever Khan had done to Leonard didn't pose a danger to other people, then it wasn't anybody else's business.

"That...that'd be fine then," Leonard swallowed; roughly scratched at his beard.

M'Benga frowned. "Do you want me to call for Ensign Riley? If the beard's bothering you, I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a trim."

Leonard paused mid-scratch; slowly lowered his hand; shook his head. "I'm keepin' the beard. I look better with it. Makes me look less...Starfleet."

...Okay, that _definitely_ sounded like something Leonard was repeating. And it was pretty obvious who would've said something like that to him.

Cornwell would need a heads up about that one.

"...Alright. And what about the hair? Are you growing that out t-"

"Can we just get to the scans?"

...Don't push. It wouldn't help.

"Sounds good," M'Benga crossed to the control panel next to the isolation cell. "I'll have to come in to get the most accurate readings. Is that okay?"

Leonard huffed. "Aren't you afraid I'll try ta attack you?"

The doctor paused; raised an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

Immediately, his friend's eyebrows pinched together with worry. "I was joking. I...I'm not threatening you. I...please don't tell Doctor Cornwell. I'd like ta sleep in my own bed again 'fore I turn forty."

M'Benga winced. "Leonard, we're trying to help you. We're not going to keep you in an isolation cell for _years_ , and I'm not going to get you in trouble over a bad joke."

At that, his seemed to relax a bit; took a deep breath. "Alright then: come on in."

M'Benga didn't give Leonard time to change his mind. The forcefield went down; the doctor crossed to his patient; sat next to him; started his scans.

"Looks like you've lost some weight," M'Benga noted after an uncomfortably quiet minute. "You're about forty pounds down from your last physical."

"...It's the new metabolism," the CMO shrugged defensively. "Makes it hard to keep weight on."

M'Benga tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah, I suppose it would."

Especially if Khan hadn't given his captive extra food to compensate for the change. Or even enough to eat in the first place. He'd already looked a bit thinner than normal in that ransom video…

He needed to do more thorough scans. Chart any potentially lasting damage to Leonard's system from whatever Khan had done to him...

"Looks like nothing's broken in your hand: it's just a bit scuffed up...and bruised." M'Benga set the tricorder in his lap; caught his patient's eye. "Leonard, if it's alright, I'd like to send you through the molecular scanner next."

His friend grimaced. "What's the point? I'm fine."

"In an immediate sense, yes," M'Benga emphasised. "But the molecular scanner can give us a better understanding of what you've been through. Of any conditions that could develop later on from repeated traumas. It'll show us a detailed map of places where your body's had to heal itself over the past few months by giving us an-"

"In-depth analysis of comparative cell age, collagen concentrations, and detection of microfractures that even the steadiest hands can blur when using a handheld tricorder." Leonard grumbled. "Among other things. I know. I'm the one who pushed ta have the prototype installed, remember?"

M'Benga nodded cautiously. "Yeah, I do."

It wasn't the most widely-used piece of equipment, since it was still so new, and almost anything immediately life-threatening could typically be found with a handheld tricorder or through tissue samples but it was especially useful with patients that had undergone longterm traumas, or body-wide conditions, like radiation poisoning. To check for potential cancers, or signs of unraveling dna.

...Things their captain needed to be checked for regularly after his...experience...in the warp core.

"It's a good piece of equipment ta have aboard," Leonard said quietly. "Even if it mostly just benefits that asshole right now. Every starship's gonna have one in a couple years."

"I hope so," M'Benga nodded again. "What do you say? Wanna get out of this room for a few minutes?"

A smile twitched at the corners of his friend's lips. "Why not? I could use the exercise. Here-"

To M'Benga's bewilderment, Leonard swung his left foot up onto the bed; hiked up his pant leg to expose his ankle.

"...Is there something wrong with your leg?"

Leonard froze. His eyes flicked down; sheepishly set his foot back on the floor.

"Nothin's' wrong. Just...habit."

...Oh.

"The chain?"

"...Couldn't go anywhere with it on." Leonard didn't look up. "Still kinda feels like it's there."

M'Benga winced. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Leonard. It sounds-"

"It was for my own safety," still, Leonard stared at his hands. "If I'd been on the chain during the party, then Harulf wouldn't've been able ta grab me. I _had_ ta be on the chain once the Augments started wakin' up."

...He shouldn't ask. He should just drop it and…

"And before that?"

Finally, Leonard's eyes lifted. To glare at M'Benga. " _Before_ that, I'd tried ta escape, and nearly gotten Khan killed and his people doomed ta bein' Federation guinea pigs for the next hundred years. I kinda deserved it."

...Well, that was bullshit.

"And _before_ you tried to escape?"

"I'm not doin' this with you," Leonard rose abruptly; pointed towards the exit. "You wanna run scans? Let's go run scans. Or you can just leave. This rathole might be smaller than where Khan kept me, but if you're gonna try ta turn me against him, then I'll happily pace my little cage 'stead of runnin' through your maze. Got it?"

M'Benga bit back the urge to remind Leonard, _once again,_ that he wasn't a lab rat. It was frustrating, and the accusations associated with it were hurtful.

...But he had to prioritize. Cornwell would work on the mental aspects of Leonard's recovery; M'Benga had to focus on the physical as much as possible.

The doctor made himself nod. "Alright. I'll stick to the scans. Are you ready to go?"

Once again, Leonard seemed to relax. Slightly.

"...Yeah."

M'Benga gave Ensign Vargas a heads up that they were moving, just to keep the kid from having an aneurysm if he came back in and found the isolation cell empty. He hadn't liked it, but it wasn't his call to make.

The molecular scanner wasn't far: they'd tucked it away in a re-purposed storage closet near the isolation cells under the fairly logical assumption that nearly anyone who would need it would either need copious amounts of privacy, the ability to be rapidly moved to the surgical bay, or both. Plus, since it was hardly ever used, they didn't want to have to work around it all the time in the main medbay.

Once they arrived, M'Benga stopped his friend just inside the door.

"Look...there's no real good way to bring this up...but would you mind taking off your slippers before we start?"

Leonard tensed; his eyes narrowed. "...The slippers were a gift."

...He had questions about that, but this wasn't the time.

"I'm not trying to take them from you permanently," M'Benga promised. "But I noticed that they seem to have...well...dried blood caked into the soles. I can have someone wash them and get them back to you, but if you wear them inside the molecular scanner as-is, they're going to interfere with the results."

For a moment, the doctor's eyes seemed to lose focus; the blood rushed away from his face. Then he leaned against a wall; yanked the slippers off his feet; slammed them down into a medical waste bin by the entryway.

"No washin' 'em," Leonard's voice was barely audible. "You'd never get all the blood out. There was...um...there was a lot of it. It...it must've been when Harulf...I...I was in so much pain, I didn't even realize I'd stepped in…oh god..."

On instinct, M'Benga reached out a comforting hand to touch his friend's shoulder.

And Leonard recoiled immediately. "Don't touch me!"

M'Benga quickly backed away. "I'm sorry, Leonard. I should've-"

"You're damn right ya should've!" His friend fumed. "And I should've remembered that all that talk 'bout _bodily autonomy_ doesn't mean crap ta you, now does it? If it did, you never would've sterilized the Augments!"

M'Benga gaped. "What the hell are you talking…"

...Wait.

Oh.

Oh _god_.

M'Benga's jaw dropped. "So that's why you're...You think _I_ performed those surgeries?"

His friend didn't answer.

That explained so much. It was no wonder he was so angry! No wonder...

"Leonard, I swear on my life, I didn't do it. I would _never_ -"

"And why should I believe that?" Leonard's voice cracked. "If you can let _Chapel_ onto my...onto _your_ staff when you know what kind of person she is, then why wouldn't you be capable of helpin' her butcher the Augments?"

"Chapel didn't do it either." How had they gotten here? How could they get out again? "No one on the Enterprise operated on-"

"Then who the hell did?! Because _uteri_ don't just _vanish_! If it wasn't you, then who the hell broke their oaths and-"

"We don't know!" M'Benga instantly regretted shouting, because it made his friend flinch...but it'd just slipped out. He forced himself to take a deep breath before continuing in a gentler tone. "I'm sorry, Leonard. But the honest-to-god truth is that we _don't know_ who did it. We know it happened before the Augments were brought aboard, because once we knew what had been done to the ones that were already in our care, we checked for it the _second_ any Augment woman arrived on the Enterprise. All we know is that it happened sometime _after_ the time that three Augments held a Starfleet officer hostage, but _before_ they came here. We're still investigating. We're trying to narrow it down. But I _promise_ you: it _did not happen on this ship_."

M'Benga was a little worried that some of their colleagues might've peeked out of their offices to listen in on the conversation...but at least Ensign Vargas hadn't barged in brandishing a phaser. That was the last thing they needed.

It felt like an eternity before Leonard spoke; when he did, his voice shook.

"How do I know you're tellin' the truth?"

"You don't," M'Benga admitted. "All you have right now is my word."

"...Khan said he heard J...Kirk say it. He said he heard it directly from Kirk's mouth that he'd...How the hell do you explain that?"

"What Khan overheard was Captain Kirk _briefing_ the admirals about our findings," Kirk had told him all about it in their sessions...and the recording of the exchange with Khan had been placed in Starfleet's official logs. Letting Leonard know what had happened wasn't a breach of confidentiality if everyone in Starfleet could access the record. "He was telling them what we had found when Khan intercepted the signal. I...I can see how Khan might've _misconstrued_ what was said. How he might've thought that _we'd_ committed those atrocities, instead of just discovering their existence. But if you never believe another word I say, Leonard, _please_ believe this: we didn't hurt those women. But we _will_ find out who did, and they _will_ face the consequences for what they've done. No matter who they _think_ they are."

His friend stared at him for a long...long moment...and then turned away, shoulders shaking.

"...I've been actin' like an ass, haven't I?"

...Bit of an understatement...but he couldn't blame him.

M'Benga let out a huff. "Well, you _did_ think I'd tried to commit genocide. Tends to make people understandably upset."

Leonard turned back to him; blinked away what were clearly tears. "I...I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for." M'Benga meant it. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like to be convinced that people he cared about were capable of something like that. "...Do you want to go back to the isolation cell? The scans can wait, if you're not up for them anym-"

"No," the patient shook his head. "Let's get this over with. We're already here. Better ta do it now than put it off."

M'Benga nodded. "Alright, whenever you're ready."

In many ways, the molecular scanner resembled what M'Benga had seen referred to in old textbooks as an MRI machine: a circular tube with a sliding table to help position the patient; but its functionality was vastly different.

Leonard crossed to the sliding table as M'Benga hooked his PADD up to the scanner. He'd be able to send the readouts directly to Admiral Cornwell, so she'd have a better shot of assessing the...kinds...of trauma Leonard might be dealing with. Even the things he might be too embarrassed to admit…though his captor had seemed pretty proud of it. That psychopath…

Focus. He had to focus on helping his patient.

Once his friend seemed to have settled in on the table, M'Benga switched the scanner to standby.

"Ready?"

"Please, just start the damn thing."

M'Benga snorted; tapped his PADD again.

Immediately, the sliding table began to retract into the scanner. Once Leonard was fully immersed, M'Benga dropped the gravity inside the tube; the table drew away from his friend; left him floating in the middle of the space. There wouldn't be any pressure distortions.

"When I say go, please hold as still as you can and...I don't know...sing the alphabet in your head?"

Leonard...laughed. "Not your best distraction, but I'll take it."

"...Go."

The scans themselves only took about thirty seconds; then the table quietly slipped back underneath the patient; the gravity in the tube came back up, and Leonard popped out of the thing before the table'd finished sliding back out.

"How's it look?"

...His friend was obviously trying to lighten his tone...but his nerves were clear.

M'Benga shrugged; kept his eyes on the loading screen. "The computer's still analyzing the data. The algorithm should have it all sorted out in a couple more sec…"

He trailed off; felt bile creep into his throat as he read the results that had just popped up on his PADD.

...In a few key areas, there was cause for relief. There was no sign of...of what Khan had claimed had happened...But the rest was still horrific.

...Fifty-seven fractures.

The molecular scanner was displaying the remnants of _fifty-seven separate bone fractures!_

Mostly in the ribs, and in the bones surrounding Leonard's nose and eyes, with evidence of multiple severe fractures to his left arm and right leg. In most places, there were only the smallest traces of scar tissue and deformity left on the bone, but it was clear what they were.

And that was _just_ Leonard's bones. The cartilage in the doctor's nose had to have been reset at least eight separate times. Probably more. The tissues in his shoulders reminded M'Benga of two kids fighting over an action figure by grabbing an arm and pulling, nearly ripping the toy in half in the process. The damage was _healed_ , but it had _happened_.

And Leonard's skin practically _glowed_ with damaged tissue.

Handprints. Lots of handprints. On his throat. His arms. His shoulders. Almost everywhere. There was a circle bruised into the muscles on his back-a knee, maybe? And that was _definitely_ the heel of a boot stamped into his hip. Not to mention the fresh strip of delicate, new skin down Leonard's right arm. And more. So much more. The molecular scanner illuminated it all like a blacklight on an old mattress, and M'Benga was suddenly finding it hard to suppress the urge to vomit.

How could Khan do this? How could _anyone_ knowingly, _willingly_ hurt someone like over and over and over again? What kind of _monster-_

"How's it look?" Leonard repeated, clearly not liking the expression on his doctor's face. "Anythin' I should be worried about?"

...That was a question with a complicated answer.

"You're...um…you're healthy," M'Benga began carefully. "Nothing I'm looking at hasn't already been treated. It's just...the amount of things that _have_ been treated...there's a lot there."

"...Can I see?"

M'Benga gave his friend a worried glance. "Leonard...this isn't something you can _unsee_. Are you sure you want to-"

"Problem is, now that ya'v said all that, I'm pretty sure my imagination's gonna make it out ta be way worse than it really is," Leonard gulped. "I'd rather _know_ then let my brain run wild. It's doin' that enough already. Let me do this, alright?"

...He was already having nightmares. This could make them worse; it could drag up things his friend had been suppressing...

But it was Leonard's body. If he wanted to see the evidence of what had been done to him, then that was his right. M'Benga couldn't withhold it from him any more than he could withhold a life-saving medication.

...And maybe it would help him admit what Khan really was.

"Alright," M'Benga held out the PADD. "Just...deep breaths. Please."

The hand that took the PADD from M'Benga was as steady as he'd ever seen it during surgery. But a few seconds after Leonard actually saw what was on it, those famously steady hands started to tremble; his face started looking...green.

"...Not eatin' yet was a smart choice," Leonard friend whisper-croaked. "And I definitely don't want those slippers back."

M'Benga blinked. "What do you-"

Leonard shoved the PADD back into M'Benga's hands, bolted to the wastebin...and hurled.


	75. Chapter 75

Scotty hoped Admiral Cornwell couldn't tell how nervous he was.

Not that he had any reason to be nervous. No. He was just about to see a friend again that he'd spent two months thinking he'd never see again. A friend that'd almost been murdered in front of him three days ago. Nothing nerve-wracking about that at all.

He was definitely gonna say something awkward. Something he'd have to backtrack. It was just a matter of-

"Mister Scott, are you listening?"

Scotty almost dropped the thermoses in his hands; he felt a flush creep into his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. I was just trying to figure out the first thing I'll say to him. I got a bit distracted."

"I get it," Cornwell leaned back in Doctor M'Benga's office armchair; huffed. "For the record: 'hello' is usually a safe bet. Though if you've got a knock-knock joke lined up, it might be a good way to break the ice."

"I don't think he's the biggest fan of knock-knock jokes," Scotty shuffled in his seat on M'Benga's couch; debated once again whether to set the thermoses down, or whether that'd make him even more likely to knock them over. "He just kind of...rolls his eyes, and asks how old we are. Though sometimes I think that's just how he laughs."

The admiral snorted at that. "Yeah, his humor can be pretty curmudgeonly, can't it? I wasn't sure if that was normal, or something that'd developed recently."

"No, that's just him," Scotty tried to balance the thermoses on the couch; quickly snatched them back up as they started to tilt. He checked to see if the admiral was watching. She was. "But I thought James would've told you that already. The man's about the only one who can make Leonard break out in the giggles."

Cornwell grimaced. "Mister Scott, I'm not discussing Leonard's case with Captain Kirk at this time. He knows Leonard is physically healthy and being debriefed, but not much else. At the moment, that's for the best."

Something in the admiral's tone made a surprising thought pop into Scotty's head.

"Wait...Admiral...I'm not the _first_ of Leonard's friends to see him, am I?"

"...Yes and no," Cornwell hedged. "Commander Spock had a...brief...encounter with Leonard yesterday. And although M'Benga is Leonard's friend, he's now also his doctor...and technically, still his subordinate. It's a complicated relationship. One that can make things...awkward. In contrast, your relationship with Leonard is straightforward. Crewmates. Drinking-buddies. All-around friends. I'm trying to ease Leonard back into some sense of normalcy, and that's pretty hard to do when his only points of contact are his security detail and his doctors."

...Well, if he hadn't been nervous before...

"Forgive me if this comes off as rude, Admiral...but then why are you keeping James-Captain Kirk-out of the loop? those two have been best mates since the day they enlisted. Why isn't he here instead?"

"Leonard has agreed to see _you_ ," Cornwell shrugged "Not Captain Kirk, or Commander Spock, or Lieutenant Uhura. You. He respects you, Mister Scott. He trusts your judgment. He has even given me permission to brief you on his case, so you're not walking in blind."

...What did that mean?

Scotty's stomach dropped.

Had Leonard had some kind of breakdown? Was he going to find his friend curled in a corner, rocking back and…

Stop.

He shouldn't jump to conclusions.

...Besides...even if that was the case, he needed to know how he could help.

"And what do I need to be briefed on?"

The admiral leaned forward in her chair; drew a deep breath.

"Mister Scott, do you remember what happened to Doctor McCoy during the treaty celebration?"

...Nope. He didn't like where this was headed.

"Aye," Scotty barely suppressed a shudder at the memory. "Not something that's easy to forget, no matter how much blood wine ye've guzzled down."

The stuff actually wasn't half bad, once he'd gotten over the texture-

"And do you remember what Leonard said to Kirk?"

...Oh.

"He said they weren't friends," Scotty recalled; shook his head. "But James and Leonard are like brothers. Khan must've made him say it."

"...Yes and no," Cornwell repeated. "Mister Scott, Leonard is projecting his anger towards Khan onto his real friends, and idealizing his former captor. From what I've been able to gather, this was a coping mechanism he had to adopt to appease Khan during his imprisonment. And even though he's safe now, he's having a hard time coming out of it."

...Oh.

"So that's why you don't want James down here?"

"Exactly." Cornwell nodded. "Specifically, Khan seems to have fixated on Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and Doctor Chapel...but mostly on Kirk. He convinced Leonard that Kirk was involved in the plot to sterilize the Augments."

"Are ye _kidding_?" Scotty gaped. "James would _never-_ "

"Of course not. But that's what Khan forced Leonard to believe. Doctor M'Benga and I have been working with him on that...but it's early in the process."

"And you want me to talk some sense intae him?" Scotty nodded. "Aye, Admiral, I'll do what-"

"No," Cornwell cut him off. "You're not here to get into a debate. If Leonard brings it up, and asks for your opinion, then by all means, tell him everything you know. But don't bring it up out of the blue, and don't be upset if he still believes Khan's word over yours. And whatever you do, don't accuse Khan of trying to manipulate him."

" _Trying_ to?" Scotty scoffed. "But Admiral, anyone can see-"

"Anyone with an objective _distance_ from the situation," the admiral corrected. "But not someone going through it. I've studied kidnappings, cults, and domestic abuse my entire career, and I can tell you that Khan knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He shredded Leonard's self-esteem; twisted his closest friendships into something sinister; tainted his perception of reality. And now Leonard is trying to piece together what's real. Who he can _actually_ trust. So whatever you do, don't _push_. If he wants to talk about something, trust that he will. And when Khan comes up, don't try to convince Leonard that that asshole's the manipulative bastard we all know he is. It'll just make him dig in his heels."

Scotty blinked. "How does _that_ work?"

"The Human brain's a complicated organ," Cornwell shook her head. "Leonard's expecting us, so I hope you'll forgive me if I skip the rest of my speech on trauma-bonds and gaslighting, but please understand that Leonard needs to process what's been done to him. If we don't let him take his time, then it could not only overwhelm him, but make him believe _we're_ the ones trying to manipulate him. And if that happens, there's a good chance he'll shut us out completely."

...Oh.

"Well, we dinnae want that," Scotty gulped. "I'll try to keep my foot out of my mouth."

"I'm sure you'll do your best," the admiral quipped; gave him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be alright, Mister Scott. He's still your friend. Treat him like one. Crack some jokes. Tell him all about those Klingon opera songs they broke into at the party. Help him feel like himself again. That's all he needs from you. Are you ready?"

...No. Not at all.

He was the wrong person for this. It should've been James down here. Or Mister Spock, or Lieutenant Uhura. Scotty was going to screw it up. He just _knew_...

"Ready as I'm going to be."

Scotty didn't come to this part of the medbay often. Usually, if he had to make the trek from engineering to the medbay, it was for a burn, or from some ensign dropping a wrench on his foot from two decks above. Small things. Things that he could pop into the main medbay for, and be back to work in fifteen minutes. The last time he'd gone all the way back to the isolation cells, one of his engineers had gotten herself bitten by a hallucinogenic centipede while fixing a small colony's artificial gravity system. She spent five days thinking she'd been turned into a panda, and that Scotty was a talking lemur. He still didn't get why she'd had that _specific_ hallucination, but he'd made sure to check on her a couple times a day until she came down.

But at least then he'd known what to expect. He'd known she'd talk about hearing colors, and tasting light, and they'd both laugh about it later.

This time, he wasn't sure what would happen; Scotty felt himself tense more and more as they crossed the bulkhead leading to the isolation cells; and he froze when his friend finally came into view.

Leonard looked...fine.

He was reading something on a PADD; completely focused on whatever it was. Somebody'd given him a pair of silly socks with old-fashioned stethescopes on them. Probably Doctor M'Benga. Seemed like his kind of humor. Leonard's beard was a bit scruffy, and he could definitely use a haircut, and his gray t-shirt seemed to hang on him a bit looser than Scotty remembered…

But he was there. And seemed, physically at least, to be in one piece.

And that was more than they'd thought possible for awhile.

Leonard looked up from his PADD as Admiral Cornwell approached the isolation unit; he spotted Scotty; scrambled to his feet.

"Hey-hi. Um, come on in-I mean...he can come in, right Kat?"

"Absolutely," Cornwell crossed to the controls; dropped the forcefield; turned to the ensign sitting in a folding chair by the cell. "You're relieved, Ensign Evans. Go get some dinner. Cook's serving lava fudge cakes for dessert."

"Yes Admiral!" The ensign hurried off.

Once Evans was gone, Cornwell gestured for Scotty to enter the isolation cell; he did.

"Anybody need anything before I go?" The admiral asked.

Leonard shook his head. "I'm good, thanks. Scotty?"

"All good, thank you."

"Perfect," the admiral set the folding chair beside Scotty in the isolation cell; put the forcefield back up. "I'll be borrowing Doctor M'Benga's office for a couple meetings. Call for me if you need anything."

"Thanks Kat," Leonard nodded. "Will do."

"Aye, thank you Doctor," Scotty replied as well; the admiral left.

The engineer looked at his friend; tried to figure how where to begin. Should he go for a hug? Start with a joke? Shake hands-

"One of those for me?"

Scotty blinked; looked down at the thermoses he'd forgotten he was carrying. "Oh! Aye, here-"

He held the coffee out to his friend; Leonard took the thermos; crossed back to the bench; sat down.

"Thanks, Scotty," Leonard took a sip of coffee; the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. "It's good ta see you."

"Good to see you too, Len. "Searching for a conversation starter, Scotty sat in the folding chair; awkwardly pointed to Leonard's thermos. "Good coffee?"

His friend nodded. "Yeah."

"Bet ye missed havin' that, huh?"

Leonard froze; gave Scotty an incredulous look.

"I-I'm sorry," Scotty babbled. "It came out before I thought...I didn't mean it like-"

"It's fine, Scotty," Leonard rolled his eyes; huffed. "You're not the first one ta say somethin' like that. Do y'all really think Khan fed me stale bread and water for two and a half months?"

"Prob...I mean, I don't...maybe a little?"

Another eye roll. "He wasn't _that_ bad. Our supplies were a bit limited, so we ate a lot of rations for awhile there, but we had tons of coffee. He'd give me a thermos full ta wake me up 'fore we went ta work for the day, and another when we took a lunch break. Sometimes he's give me a little extra, if it'd been a rough day. Pretty good coffee too."

Scotty frowned. "What do you mean 'went to work?'"

His friend tensed; took another sip of coffee.

"It's nothin," Leonard shifted uncomfortably. "I just...helped 'em with some repairs ta the ship."

 _What_?

"But you're a doctor, not an engineer!" Scotty blurted before he could stop himself.

Luckily, Leonard snorted. "Yeah, I told 'em that…I told 'em that a lot, actually. But the Botany Bay's a damn old ship. Half the hardware'd corroded away; Khan had to replace most 'a the vital systems with Federation tech just ta keep it spaceworthy. It was a big job. One he couldn't do alone."

"And so he hopped a doctor up on caffeine, handed him a wrench, and hoped for the best?" Scotty couldn't help it: he scoffed. "There had to've been something else he could've done rather than treat you like some kind of-"

"Well, he _had_ other options," now Leonard sounded annoyed. "But I'm not useless in engineering, and most 'a the time he just needed somebody ta hold a flashlight. Or scrub some rusty panels. It wasn't all dangerous crap."

"What do you mean, 'it wasn't all-'"

"I'm here, aren't I? So it was fine. I did fine, and it was better than the alternative."

"And what was that?"

His friend just...stared...for a minute. Pain flickered through those familiar eyes; fear too...and anger. For a minute, Scotty wasn't sure if his friend was going to yell at him, or start crying.

Instead, Leonard slumped; drew a deep breath; let it out. " _You_ were the alternative, Scotty. If I didn't help him, he was gonna...he would've come after you."

Scotty's eyes went wide. "Me?"

"Khan likes ta get back at people," his friend seemed to shudder, but kept going. "He needed help, and he said that if I couldn't do it, he'd have to kidnap a Federation engineer. And he remembered you. How you disabled the Vengence. And you shooting him. And that you have a glass jaw. If I didn't help 'em with the ship, he was gonna come for you, and he was gonna..."

...Oh.

So...Khan had a hit list. And he was on it.

Good to know. Good to...know.

"...And how did he expect to get to me?" Scotty tried to let out a dry laugh; it came out as a choke. "It's not like he has a way to track us, or-"

"He woulda found a way," Leonard rolled his eyes. "Y'all went on _shore leave_ in the middle of this crap, didn't you?"

Scotty stared. "Leonard...I don't know what Kh...what you've been told, but the admirals didn't give us a choice in that. We had no leads. We'd run the ship ragged zipping back and forth across the quadrant, and for the sake of the health of ship and crew, they ordered us to take-"

"S'not the _point_ , Scotty," Leonard snipped; grimaced. "Look, I...I'm sorry I'm...I didn't call ya down here ta get in a fight. All I was tryin' ta say was when you were on shore leave, Khan coulda _literally_ just picked you up off the street. The crew might not've even realized you were gone till morning. _That's_ how easy it woulda been for 'em ta drag you into this. He _needed_ the help, and if I'd decided to throw a hissy fit 'bout a little mechanical work, it _definitely_ woulda been you."

Scotty...didn't know what to say to that.

Well, he had a _few_ ideas, but the first twelve that popped into his head involved calling Khan a series of colorful phrases that, according to Admiral Cornwell, would do more harm than good.

Instead, Scotty took a long swig of coffee to buy more time. Maybe he could just change the subject, and-

"Do ya wanna leave?"

Scotty turned back over at his friend. Leonard was staring into his thermos; his thumb rubbed an indent on his left pinky. He looked...tired.

...What was going through his head? What did he think...

"I've got nowhere to be," he gave his friend a nervous smile. "Unless you _want_ me to go?'

Leonard seemed to relax a bit; he shook his head. "I'm sorry 'f'I freaked you out. Things've just been kinda...spillin' out the last couple days. Once I get goin,' it's hard ta stop."

"I get it," Scotty hoped so, at least. "It's like when I first came here from Delta Vega. After six months stuck on that ball of ice with just Keenser and myself, I babbled on to all of you so much that I lost my voice for-"

"Two days," Leonard grimaced again; his hand came up to touch his throat. "Yeah, I remember."

Scotty waited for his friend to go on, but for some reason he didn't understand, their momentum seemed to be gone again. He took another sip of coffee.

"...Hey, Scotty?"

"Yea?"

"When you have a minute, would ya mind runnin' a diagnostic on the molecular scanner?"

Scotty blinked. "Something wrong with it?"

Leonard gave him a stiff shrug. "Not sure. I just...I wanna be sure."

...He didn't like the sound of that.

"Yeah, I can take a look," Scotty agreed. "Anything else I can do?"

"No, that's plenty," Leonard paused; fidigeted. "Actually...I know this is gonna sound weird...butif you feel up to it at some point, would ya be willing ta write me a reference? Haven't needed em in years, and my old ones are all out of date. If you have time."

Scotty blinked again; tilted his head. "Wait, what do you need a reference for?"

"Ya think the Cerberus colony's just gonna let me practice medicine without 'em?" Leonard sighed. "They'll wanna know what kind of person's movin' into their neighborhood, 'specially if I'm gonna set up a private practice. References come with the territory."

Now Scotty was _really_ confused. "Wait, you're _leaving Starfleet?"_

"Well, yeah..." His friend frowned. "Didn't Admiral Cornwell tell you that?"

No. No she hadn't.

"But you've built a life here," Scotty protested. "You've spent six years in Starfleet-"

"Devoted to a lie," Leonard growled; immediately grimaced yet again. "I...I'm sorry Scotty. I...I promise I'm not mad at you. I shouldn't...Look, there's a lot goin' on here that I'm pretty sure you don't know 'bout. I've learned a lot the past couple months. And there's been a...a 'breach of trust,' ta use Admiral Cornwell's words. She won't let me resign yet, but once she does, I'm outta here."

"But Leonard-"

"I can't stay here, Scotty," Leonard rubbed his face. "I can't work for people who would...do the things I know they've done. I can't do it. I won't do it. And once I'm declared fit, nobody'll be able ta keep me from leaving."

...He was serious, wasn't he? He was actually gonna leave.

Maybe he just needed some time. Maybe he'd come back on his...

But that didn't sound like what was happening, did it? It sounded like a done deal.

"I...suppose you're right," Scotty reluctantly admitted. "No one can _stop_ you...But we'd definitely miss you. And I dunnae what James would do without you."

Leonard stiffened. "...Well, he seemed ta get along without me for two and a half months just fine. I'm sure he'll find someone else ta latch onto pretty quick."

Scotty stared. "He won't just _replace_ you. You two have been through-"

"But somehow I still didn't see what he was. I didn't..." Leonard trailed off; shuddered. "Scotty, you don't understand. I found some things out while I was...I can't just _forgive_...Someone sterilized the Augments. And whoever it was, Kirk...Khan said Kirk helped 'em do it."

...Cornwell told him not to argue with him about this. She told him...

But how could he sit there, and let James take the blame for something he didn't do?

"That's not what happened."

"How am I supposed to believe that? How..." His friend stiffened. "Wait, you already _knew_?"

...This could go downhill very quickly.

"Aye," Scotty grimaced. "Everyone aboard knows by now. There's a Federation-wide investigation into it...and even if there wasn't...I was there when M'Benga told James about the sterilizations. Leonard, you need to know: he was as horrified as I was. I swear on my mother's life that James didn't-"

"What do you mean, you were _there_?"

Scotty blinked. In a flash, Leonard's entire demeanor had shifted. Now he looked furious. And hurt. And...a few other things Scotty couldn't quite place.

"I mean I was there," Scotty began carefully. "We knew that some of the cryotubes had potential hardware issues; powercell malfunctions. So James had me run diagnostics on them when they came aboard. And during those diagnostics, I found an algorithm that was altering the tubes' medical scans. Hiding something. M'Benga and Chapel ran some scans, and then-"

"You're sayin _Chapel_ helped find the surgeries?"

"...Aye." Why was that surprising? "She's had the most experience studying Augment anatomy, so she was there to help look for-"

"Do you know how she _got_ that experience?"

"...Aye," Scotty repeated. "She hasn't hidden it. But she's not proud of it either. She wants to make up for it, if she can."

"She should have her medical license revoked," Leonard muttered. "She should lose-"

"She's already lost a lot," Scotty had to interrupt. "Khan murdered her fiance on Xedna Eight. She lost her last six months with him because she _did_ try to take a stand against Admiral Yearling. And I doubt there's many starships that would be willing to take her on after this. He career might really be over. If Chapel could take it all back, I'm sure she'd-"

"Well, she can't," Leonard snapped; grimaced. "Scotty...there's things that can't be taken back, and what she did-willingly breakin' her oath outta nothin' but _scientific curiosity-_ that's one of 'em. Could ya please just drop it?"

Scotty stared.

This...this wasn't like the Leonard he knew. His friend understood that there were gray areas. That sometimes good people made mistakes, and they deserved a chance at redemption. They shouldn't just be written off...

This was what Khan had done to him, wasn't it? This was what Admiral Cornwell had meant about...

She really hadn't been kidding, had she?

"Alright," Scotty nodded. "I didn't come here to argue either. I'll drop it."

"...Thanks," his friend rested against the back wall again; stared into his coffee again.

Scotty searched for something else to say, but every idea he had led back to something he wasn't supposed to talk about.

Was this how it was going to be for everybody? Was it really going to be this much of a struggle for Leonard's old friends to strike up a conversation with him? Would he even let the others get this far, or would he chase them away the second they popped in for a visit?

Leonard was in pain. Anyone with an ounce of sense could see that.

Scotty just wished he knew what to do about it.

Why had Leonard picked him for this visit? Why couldn't he've picked someone who was better at-

"You really think Kirk didn't help with the sterilizations?"

...Now who wasn't dropping it?

But Admiral Cornwell had told him to answer Leonard's questions honestly. And if he really wanted to know...

"If he did, then he missed his calling as an actor," Scotty carefully began. "When M'Benga told him about the sterilizations...well...I've never seen James like that before. You know him. He doesn't panic. No matter what happens, his mind immediately starts working towards a solution. He always tries to find a way...But when M'Benga told him what we'd found...James broke down. M'Benga nearly had to sedate him."

"You realize that doesn't make your case, right?" Leonard still didn't look up from his coffee. "'Cause it kinda sounds ta me like he got caught red-handed, and thought y'all were about ta turn 'em in."

"No, that's…" How could he explain? "It wasn't like that. It was more...more like grief."

Finally, Leonard looked up, clearly confused. "Grief?"

"Aye," Scotty grimaced. "You have to understand, we found all this out about a week after that son of...after Khan broke your arm in front of James, just to prove a point, and set off that bomb in Paris. James had been desperately lobbying for the Augments' release for nearly weeks, because he knew it was the only way we could possibly prevent more bloodshed. And then, when it finally seemed Starfleet had come to their senses, we found...what we found. And there wasn't time to fix it before Khan's next deadline."

Leonard stared. "...So, what you're claimin' is at that point, J...Kirk realized Khan was gonna find out 'bout the sterilizations, and that the only way ta stall that long enough ta do somethin' about it woulda been ta ignore Khan's deadline?"

"Aye," Scotty nodded. "We hadn't received your distress call yet. We dinnae think we had a prayer of finding you or capturing Khan before his deadline. At that moment, in our minds-in James' mind-the only options were to deliver Khan's crew to Xedna Eight, knowing he would eventually discover what had been done to his people and take revenge, or to ignore his deadline, and let him blow eight more random places off the map; to just _let him_ kill countless civilians...and in either scenario, we _knew_ what would happen to you."

Leonard's face had been gradually losing its color as Scotty spoke; now he definitely looked about ready to throw up.

"...M'benga said it didn't happen here. What you're sayin' lines up with what he said. Bit more detailed though. Bit more...context."

"Is...is that good?" Context was _normally_ good, but this situation was far from normal.

"...I wanna believe, Scotty," Leonard squeezed his eyes shut; they were watery when he opened them. "I wanna believe J...Kirk's really innocent. But you don't know...you don't understand just how much Khan _despises_ him. Just sayin' Kirk's nickname is enough ta piss 'em off and make 'em...If Kirk's innocent, then why would somethin' like that make Khan so mad?"

Scotty...didn't have an answer that wouldn't break his promise to Admiral Cornwell. He also had half a mind to turn the ship around, and punch Khan in the face himself. It would've been the last thing he ever did...but it was still tempting.

Instead, Scotty just shook his head. "I...don't know what to tell you, Len. I wish I had some kind of magic mirror that could show you what really happened...but I don't. I just know what I saw that day, and what I saw was a man realizing his best friend was going to be _murdered_ , and there was nothing he could do to stop it."

"He's not my…" Leonard stopped; took a deep breath; a swig of coffee. "Forget it. I can't...Scotty, I need ta know...how many died in Paris?"

The engineer winced. Why had his friend focused in on that part of his little speech?

"...I'm not sure what the final count is. A lot of people were hurt, and there's only so much medical technology can-"

"How many do you know about?"

"...Sixty's the last count I heard. And a hundred ninety-one injuries. It was across from the President's office. On a busy day. Khan wanted to make a statement."

" _Sixty_..." Leonard whispered into his coffee; his voice cracked; a tear rolled down his cheek. "I...I coulda stopped it. Why didn't I stop it?"

Scotty's mouth fell open. "Leonard, how could you _possibly_ have stopped it?"

...Another long silence.

...Uncomfortably long.

...Scotty ran out of coffee.

"Goddamnit," Leonard finally muttered; wiped his eyes.. "I gotta stop...I swear, I've almost cried enough the past couple days ta need another IV drip."

"...Another?"

"God, I'm pathetic," Leonard sniffed. "I know y'all're thinkin' it, an' you're right. I could've just...goddammit, I'm such a _coward_."

...Oh, hell no.

They weren't doing that.

"Do you really wanna know what I think?"

His friend let out a dry, nervous laugh. "Go right ahead, Scotty. Lay it on me. I'm a traitor. A weak dumbass who put his own survival above-"

"I think you've been through Hell. I think you had to do some things you're not proud of just to survive. But that doesn't mean it's your fault. It doesn't mean-

"You don't _know_ ," Leonard's voice cracked again. "You don't know what I did ta-"

" _No one blames you for finding a way to stay alive._ " And if anyone did, they could take it up with Scotty's fists. "You don't have to...to justify surviving things we can only imagine. We're just happy that you did. We missed you, Len. All of us. We thought we'd never see you again. And we've never been so happy to be wrong."

Scotty sat there for a moment, just watching his friend. He wasn't sure how this was going to go. Had he messed up? Had he-

"I...um," Leonard clenched his jaw; swallowed. "I'm not...um...thanks Scotty. I'll...try ta remember that."

...That could've gone much worse.

"Any time, Leonard." A thought nagged at the back of Scotty's mind; he groaned. "But I think Admiral Cornwell's gonna kill me. I was just supposed to be here for small talk; to catch you up on ship gossip; to spill the beans on Klingon opera; not...well...all this. If I went too far, I'm-"

"Wait wait wait," Leonard looked shocked...but not in a horrified way. Well...not _just_ horrified. "Scotty...since when do Klingons _sing_?!"


	76. Chapter 76

"Holy shit, it's really you."

Spock raised his eyebrows in surprise.

That was _not_ how he had expected his first interaction with the Leonard McCoy of this timeline to begin.

Although, given the warnings he had been given about the doctor's recent behaviors...it could have been worse.

"I-I'm sorry, Ambassador," Leonard flushed; sat up on his cot. "When Kat-um-Doctor Cornwell-said you were comin' ta see me, part a' me thought she was joking."

"It is quite alright," and more than slightly amusing...if also a bit painful. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed that man's voice… "Do you mind if I come in?"

"...'S'fine, I guess," the man swung his legs off the cot; gestured towards the control panel by the isolation room entryway. "Given that Vargas didn't come back in with you, I'm assumin' K...Cornwell gave ya the passcode already?"

"She did," Spock entered the code, then shifted the satchel on his shoulder out of the way; gathered the chair next to the entryway; stepped inside. "When Admiral Cornwell called Ensign Vargas into the main medbay, the man expressed a desire to come back in order to put the field up behind me, however neither the Admiral nor myself believed that to be necessary."

Leonard's eyes lit up. "Really? She said it was okay ta have the forcefield down?"

...If the next few hours went well, Spock suspected Admiral Cornwell was planning to allow Leonard to return to his old quarters that evening. They were attached to the medbay, after all, and therefore easily monitored...and as the doctor had not attempted to harm anyone in the five days since they had left Khan's moon, being allowed to sleep in his own bed was the next logical step towards reintroducing normalicy to Leonard's life.

However, as that outcome appeared to be at least partially dependent upon Spock's success, it was better not to mention his suspicion just yet.

"She does not believe you will attempt to leave," Spock said instead as he set the chair down near the left wall of the room close to Leonard's cot; pressed a button in the wall, sat down as a small table slowly unfolded between them. "And she also does not believe you have any desire to harm me."

If he tried, he would fail. But Spock was already certain it would not come to that.

"'Course not," Leonard grimaced. "I'm not just goin' round punchin' people who don't deserve it. And I might not know much 'bout you, but from what I _have_ heard, you're a pretty decent guy. I'm not 'bout ta blame you for things _my_ Spock d...might've done. Wouldn't be fair."

...Hopefully, they would be able to address that later.

"I am glad to hear it."

"So...um…" The doctor shuffled. "I hope this doesn't come across as rude...But when Doctor Cornwell said you might pop by, she was kinda vague on...why. I'm not even sure why you're on the ship, and though I've got a couple ideas, I'm workin' on not just jumpin' to conclusions with things goin on right now...So if ya don't mind me askin'...What's goin' on here? Why _exactly_ am I gettin' a visit from a time-traveling half-Vulcan ambassador?"

The corners of Spock's lip twitched upwards at the phrasing.

It was a logical question, although one which needed to be answered in intervals if there was any hope of the afternoon going according to plan.

"There are numerous reasons for both my visit here, and my presence on the Enterprise," Spock began. "In part, I had hoped to advise the Federation on their negotiations with the Augments and Klingons. However, I was only able to make minor suggestions, as most of the negotiations were complete before Admiral Cornwell could convince Starfleet Command to approve my passage aboard the Discovery."

He had been unsure at first if he could trust her. His continuing inquiries into the Ceti Alpha V debacle had already revealed a few disappointing corruptions within Starfleet Command and the Federation Council, however thus far Admiral Cornwell appeared to be innocent.

"What's the Discovery?"

...That also required an explanation, didn't it?

"A new, high-speed research vessel commanded by Captain Michael Burnham, my...your Commander Spock's sister." He had always known she would be a formidable captain. "Her crew's work is the reason the Augments were able to be safely transported to their new colony in such a relatively short amount of time."

In truth, they could have delivered all the Augments in a single day...however that would have given the Klingons more knowledge of their capabilities than had been safe to risk. Even at peace, it was logical to be cautious.

"I guess I did kinda wonder how they got there so…" Leonard froze. "Wait...so you're telling me Spock has a _sister_?"

The Ambassador raised an eyebrow. "I find it fascinating that _that_ is what intrigues you most about my explanation."

Why was everyone always so surprised? He had never claimed to be an only child. And he might not have often discussed his siblings in his own timeline for...numerous reasons, however surely his counterpart had at least _mentioned_ Michael to...

Or perhaps not. Spock did not know what their relationship was like here, other than that they were still siblings, and that they currently appeared to be on speaking terms. Their aimable behavior could have simply been spurred by their predicament.

All he knew with certainty was that he still missed his Michael greatly. As he did all the friends and family he had lost throughout the years.

...But it was the cost of a long life lived well, to have lost so much. The pain of their loss was inseparable from the joy of having known them.

Yet, there were some pains his younger counterpart would likely never know. Not in the same way. The events had never been put in motion to allow for them. Spock had made certain of that shortly after his arrival.

Intentionally altering a timeline was...dangerous. However Spock had come to acknowledge, at least privately, that this reality had become so far removed from his own that he had just as much chance of determining their futures as if he were a historian. It was better to act as a kind of historian himself; to find patterns between this reality's present and his reality's future; to help guide them away from paths which he knew beyond a doubt led to annihilation.

...There were so, so many of those. And only so much he could do.

"Um...Everythin' alright?"

Spock broke from his thoughts; nodded. "Forgive me. I have found myself growing especially...reflective...in the past few months. Yes, I have a sister. As does your Spock. The circumstances of her adoption appear to have gone differently in your timeline than mine, however in both realities, Michael became my sister when I was six years old."

"...Huh." The doctor huffed. "Wonder why Spock never mentioned her."

"I am certain he had his reasons." Although clearly not the same as his own. "However, as pleasant as it is to discuss my family, that is not why I came all this way to see you."

Leonard huffed. "You're not really expectin' me to believe _I'm_ half the reason you hitchhiked 'cross the Quadrant, are you?"

"It is the truth," Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have been trying to think of ways I could help you since I learned of your abduction. And given my unique position, I feel I can best help you by providing...context."

Leonard gave him an odd look. "...Context?"

"Yes."

"...No offense, but I'm havin' trouble seein' what _context_ somebody from another timeline can give me 'bout the last couple months."

"The context of one who has had an alternative history of brush-ins with Khan Noonien Singh. As well as a few other-"

"You're joking, right?" The doctor cut him off. "Look, Ambassador, I know more 'bout Khan than anybody else in the Federation. Kinda happened when I spent months as the only person he could talk to. What could you _possibly_ know about him that I don't?"

...This was not a case for sublty.

"I know how he acts when greeted with hospitality," Spock told him. "I know how he acts when treated as an honored guest. "

Leonard looked taken aback. "...What do ya mean, an 'honored guest?' When did that ever happen?"

"It did not happen here. But it did happen in my timeline. Believe me when I say his behavior under those circumstances is...most enlightening."

The doctor stared for a moment; opened his mouth to say something; stopped himself...and slumped in his seat.

"I'm sorry I'm bein' rude," Leonard muttered. "I guess I'm just a little...weirded out, s'all. Not every day ya meet a time traveler. 'Specially not one with a familiar face."

"This is not entirely comfortable for me either," Spock raised an eyebrow. "Even after years in your reality, I have not become fully accustomed to those I consider old friends viewing me as a stranger. "

Leonard blinked. "We...we were friends in your timeline?"

"We are not in yours, Doctor?"

The doctor winced; fell silent again.

...That was not the response Spock had hoped for.

"Would ya mind callin' me Leonard?" the man finally mumbled. "I'm kinda preferin' it ta 'Doctor' right now."

...Oh.

"That is understandable," Spock nodded. "When one is targeted for a specific aspect of themselves, one's instinct is often to force distance between that aspect and the rest of their being. I have experienced that instinct myself."

Spock had grown past his futile efforts to reject his Human side long ago. It was half of who he was, though it had taken him some time to realize the logic in embracing that.

It was far simpler to openly empathise with those around him than to construct a falsely logical rationale for his emotions. His brother may have once taken that concept to an extreme, however the balance Spock had finally settled upon appeared stable. Healthy, even. And, given his life experiences, incredibly necessary.

"I…" Leonard shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure this is the same thing."

"It is not a perfect analogy," Spock agreed. "You chose to become a doctor, whereas I had no choice in my ancestry. However, as I simply wish to communicate that I can understand why you would choose to spur your title after it has presumably been used as a weapon against you, I do not believe we need to analyze the distinction too heavily."

Leonard snorted. "God, you really are Spock, aren't you?"

"After one hundred sixty years going by that name, I would hope so."

The doctor froze. "Did...did you just make a joke?"

"I have been known to make jokes."

"Not here you're not."

"Well, the Spock you know is still very young. Give him time."

"...Right," Leonard grimaced; pointed to the satchel in Spock's lap. "So what's with the bag?"

An obvious deflection, however he had expected a few of those. And they had plenty of time.

"I thought we might play a game of kal-toh while we talked," Spock produced a hexagonal pedestal and small silk bag from the satchel; set them on the table. "Would that be alright?"

"...I guess," Leonard shrugged. "Though I don't think I've ever played before. Spock-the Spock from here-likes chess."

"As do I," Spock emptied the bag of silver sticks in a heap atop the pedestal. "And I admit, I am not quite as skilled at this particular game as I am at chess...However, my foster children prefer kal-toh, and any effort I can make to support their interests will help their emotional development."

Leonard blinked. "You're...you're a _dad_?"

"Going on seven months now," Spock pressed a button on the pedestal; turned on the game's electronic components. "T'Nara and Sevok are my foster children. Twins who lost their parents when Vulcan was destroyed. I have been helping them overcome the emotional trauma of that event...to the best of my abilities."

Sevok no longer cried when he saw a sandstorm. That was a significant improvement, as was his expanding social group. And although Spock had found some success in focusing T'Nara's passion into musical endeavors, her most effective coping mechanism appeared to be...humor. There was a possibility that she would become the first Vulcan comedian in centuries. He had not anticipated that outcome when he adopted the twins, however he was far from disappointed.

...Perhaps, as there were so many in this next generation with the same emotional challenges as his children, Vulcan society would finally adopt a more forgiving philosophy; one which better balanced logic and emotion. They were already taking small steps towards that future. It would not be the worst outcome of the disaster...even if he doubted he would live long enough to see it.

After another moment to overcome his apparent shock, Leonard let out a huff. "Man, your family just keeps gettin' bigger an' bigger, doesn't it?"

...The man had no idea.

"It is not something I object to," Spock gestured to the game between them. "Would you like to begin?"

"Sure, why not?" Leonard loudly clapped his hands together; seemed to flinch at the noise; settled them in his lap. "So...what exactly do we do?"

"At its most basic level, kal-toh is a multi-dimensional puzzle." Spock picked up one of the bars; handed it to Leonard. "The individual pieces in a game of kal-toh are called t'ans. Although they appear to be simple iron bars, each t'an contains an electromagnetic field generator and sensor unit. The sensor gathers data on the position and strength of all other t'ans in the set, and when a piece is moved, the t'an's electromagnetic fields adjust accordingly."

"So moving one t'an would change the position of every piece other on the board." Leonard frowned at the t'an in his hand. "But if the entire puzzle changes shape every time ya move one piece, how are ya supposed ta put the thing together?"

"Patience. And analysis. The end goal is to create a set of nested icosidodecahedrons, supported by an structural latticework. With enough experimentation, one can determine which seemingly identical pieces are meant to compose which parts of the structure."

Spock gestured for the doctor to attempt a move. Leonard set his t'an upright against the base of the pedestal; a few of the nearby pieces aligned themselves to it.

The doctor's lip twitched. "Okay, I'll admit, that's kinda cool."

"I agree." He had always preferred the physical version of this game. The aesthetic of the moving pieces was far more appealing the the blurred changes portrayed in the holographic version, which had unfortunately become popularized by the Twenty-Fourth Century. "As you can see, it is a game of cause-and-effect. No one ever completes a kal-toh on their first attempt, however they can learn how the t'ans interact, and how they might better manipulate them into the proper positions in future games."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess: this is how Vulcan kids start learnin' 'bout the scientific method?"

"In part."

The doctor huffed. "Don't y'all have any games that are just for the fun of it?"

"They are discouraged in Vulcan culture," Spock admitted; placed a t'an of his own. "However, my mother and sister did teach me a few when I was young...as did you and Jim when we became friends."

"Really?" Leonard finally smiled. "What games did I teach you?"

"Poker, as a notable example," Spock raised an eyebrow. "An intriguing game."

When his Leonard McCoy first taught him the rules, the doctor had become incredibly flustered when Spock pointed out that a large portion of the game's objective was actually to conceal one's true emotions from their opponents. It was a good afternoon.

"Poker's a fun one," the doctor nodded approvingly; placed another t'an. "Did I ever manage ta beat you, or did ya pick it up in your first hand?"

"I did well for a few games, however once you discerned a few of my tells, the game became much more challenging."

The doctor blinked, clearly confused. "Really? What tells could you possible have?"

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "Take a guess."

Leonard chuckled. "Yeah, that'd do it in poker. I didn't realize it was subconscious."

"Sometimes. Not always." He placed another t'an; a large section of the kal-toh's base structure took shape. "Playing poker with my Leonard turned out to be a beneficial experience on both sides. After a time, he was able to read my micro expressions well enough to understand when our verbal sparring sessions were traversing from stimulating topics into territory which was actually hurtful. Our new understanding was a relief not only to the two of us, but to Jim as well."

The doctor...scowled. "Why do ya call 'em J...Jim? Isn't that considered really informal ta Vulcans?"

"Not in this case," Spock countered. "Suffice it to say that I do not believe, in a hundred and sixty years, I was ever as close with anyone as I was with my Jim. I stopped using formal language to discuss him long ago, and frankly, even in this new reality, there is very little which could make me revert to formal variations of his name."

"...Alright," Leonard said slowly. "I'll be honest, I'm not quite sure what ta make of that."

"He was a good man." One whom Spock missed terribly. "As is your Jim...despite what you may have been told."

He had expected the subsequent glare...but not for it to morph into sadness.

"I'm sorry if this is outta line...but do ya think your K...your version of Jim's still out there? Or do ya think Nero's time travel crap screwed things up so much that he doesn't...you know…?"

...Ah. That would explain…

He had given that a great deal of thought over the past few years...and fortunately, his conclusion was reassuring.

"Given that I did not fade from reality like a character in an old Earth film Jim once insisted I watch," Spock let himself smile a little. "And given that my memories of my timeline are intact, I can only conclude that the use of red matter during the incursion from my timeline into yours created a rift in spacetime with enough energy to, for lack of a better description, _rend reality in two._ Like a bacterium which has undergone mitosis."

It was, objectively, fascinating.

The implication that spacetime had the capability to _reproduce_ like a living organism had drastic scientific and philosophical implications. Implications which Spock doubted he would have time to fully-

"But you can never go home?"

...Now there was something astonishingly sad in the doctor's eyes. Flickers of the compassion which had endeared Leonard to him in his own time.

He was still in there. He was just...wounded.

"I cannot go home," Spock confirmed. "My reality and your own may both be intact, however they are now completely distinct entities. They will likely continue for eternity without another interaction."

Leonard winced. "I'm sorry. That's gotta be...I'm sorry."

"I accepted the truth years ago," Spock told him. "I cannot change what happened. I can only move forward, and find a place here."

"Move forward…" The doctor absently rubbed his left pinky. "...Do ya think they're still lookin' for you?"

...That was a complicated question.

" _Still_ is an arbitrary term in this situation," Spock began. "At this coinciding moment in my home reality, I do not even know the people whom I will grow to call my closest friends. I am a science officer aboard the Enterprise, which is still captained by Christopher Pike. Jim will not be made captain for another four years. The two of you will transfer to the Enterprise at the same time, from the same vessel. Everything which we are to experience together is still yet to come."

All their adventures, all their triumphs, and failures, agonies, and joys. Everything that had inevitably defined them...It was odd to think that it had not yet happened, and yet his existence proved its inevitability.

Seeing these people-so close to the ones he once knew, and yet different enough to make some of them strangers again-It evoked levels of emotion which would have made his younger self ashamed of his Human heritage.

"Well, that's just...weird ta think about," Leonard shook his head. "But that's not what I meant."

...No, he supposed it wasn't.

"In my reality's future, after my disappearance into the anomaly, I am certain everyone believes I am dead," Spock paused; tilted his head slightly to the side. "And not for the first time. Although it is...fascinating...that I am now more lost to them than when they had my actual body to bury."

The doctor's face scrunched with confusion. "I think there's a really long story behind that, isn't there?"

"...Indeed."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Alright, don't tell me."

"Actually, I do intend to tell you part of that story." Many of the details were specific to events which would be highly improbable to be replicated now, not only given the fact that Khan's colony was so far from Ceti Alpha V, but also because the Federation and Klingons were both monitoring the Augment moon for signs of distress. "It directly relates to my reasons for this visit. However, it will not make sense without the proper context, so please forgive me for not 'diving right in,' as the you I once knew would say."

The doctor gave an uncomfortable nod. "I...guess I get that. I mean, it's gotta be hard enough just ta keep your history separate from ours in your head. A lot's gotta be real different, right?"

...He had no idea.

"There are a few major differences," Spock admitted. "Although I must admit, the changes I find the most...odd...are actually quite small. Things that still I cannot _quite_ ascertain how they could have changed with the timeline."

Leonard tilted his head. "Like what?"

"Eye color, for example," Spock raised an eyebrow. "Body shape and personality can be greatly affected by one's environment, so I can understand those differences with ease...however, given that Jim, for example, was conceived _before_ the incursion, the genetics of his eye color should have been unaffected. Yet somehow, whereas your Jim's eyes are bright blue, the Jim I called a friend for decades...his eyes were brown."

"Oh, actually, that one's easy," Leonard snorted this time; rolled his eyes. "Kirk had brown eyes when he was a kid. He's shown me the pictures. Then the dumbass went to a bar with a fake ID when he was seventeen, and got himself a case of Andorian mono. One of the weirder side-effects is that it strips the melanin from your…"

The doctor froze.

Spock tilted his head. "Is something wrong?"

Leonard swallowed hard; picked up another t'an. "...Nothin.' It's probably not...I'm jumpin' to a conclusion that's probably way, way off. Ignore me."

"...That would explain the change in Jim's eye color," Spock agreed. "However I am also curious as to why yours are so different as well."

Leonard blinked. " _Mine_?"

"The Leonard McCoy in my timeline had blue eyes, not hazel," Spock explained.

"Oh…" The doctor shifted; scratched the back of his neck. "Well, that's just...weird. I'm sorry, I got nothin' on that one."

"Perhaps the man I knew also contracted Andorian mono?" Spock suggested.

Leonard's unfamiliar eyes widened. "...Actually, now that I think 'bout it, it's possible. I did a lotta training in virology labs when I was in med school. One week, I shadowed a doctor who was working on a buncha vaccines. I think her assistant almost spilled a sample on me...God, that's weird ta think about."

"Many aspects of temporal physics are." Spock placed another t'an. "I am certain there are many similarities between yourself and the man I once knew...however you have not been _exactly_ the same person since you were six years old. The Leonard McCoy I knew never even attended Starfleet Academy. He enlisted in Starfleet as a doctor during the first Klingon War, at a time in which we were desperate for skilled surgeons, and, as many such doctors did, learned the regulations as he went."

It could not have been easy for him. Then again, war was not easy for anyone. So many innocent people lost-

"Are you sayin' we're _still_ headed for a war with the Klingons?"

...There was fear in the doctor's voice.

Fear that would not have been there, had Spock remembered to provide the proper context.

It was so easy to forget, even while discussing it, that his history was so different...

"The war never happened here," Spock explained. "In the year your Vulcan was destroyed, my timeline's Federation was attacked by a radical faction of Klingons, who rallied the rest of their empire into the war effort. But here, Nero attacked a Klingon vessel before he destroyed Vulcan, and the attacks shifted the Klingon's attention from the Federation to the Romulan Empire."

And somehow because of that, the Federation and Klingon Empire had reached a level of diplomatic relations which Spock's timeline would still be struggling to achieve for decades. It was truly fascinating, how much one event could change so much-

"Really sucks for the Romulans," Leonard grimaced. "I mean-don't get me wrong-I'm glad we somehow avoided a war, but the Romulans had nothing ta do with Nero's attack. He kinda screwed his own people over."

...Those were not the words Spock would choose...but it was an apt summation.

"The Klingons and Romulans have been at odds for a long time," Spock told him. "Nero was the catalyst for this particular conflict, yes, however it was not their first, and will likely not be their last."

"A kinda cold attitude, isn't it?" The doctor placed a t'an; the entire structure began to sway. "Is...is that supposed ta happen?"

"Sometimes," Spock moved another t'an; the shape stabilized. "Although I would not call my analysis 'cold,' I can understand how it may appear to be so without the proper context. Please understand that it is simply an observation based largely upon a history which-to you-has not yet been, and may never be, written. I also have the advantage of having been-in my timeline-granted permission to review numerous Klingon and Romulan documents about the origins of their feud. The species became blood enemies within the first _months_ of the Klingons developing warp. Thus my lack of surprise that the two powers have found an excuse for war yet again."

Leonard paused midway through reaching for a t'an. "I wouldn't really call it an 'excuse.' The Klingons thought the Romulans attacked them."

"And yet the war did not begin until over a year after that attack. Were Nero's attack the only provocation for the war, the Klingons would not have waited even a day to begin their attacks. There must be other factors at play; other escalations of which we are not aware."

"If ya say so."

The doctor grabbed a t'an from the pile; placed it near the top.

Half the structure collapsed in on itself.

The doctor's eyes went wide. "I-I'm sorry! I broke it, didn't I? I didn't mean ta...I just...god, I'm really sorry..."

...That was a much more intense reaction than the situation called for.

"There is no need to apologize," Spock placed a t'an; some of the outer latticework snapped back into place. "It is not broken. Building a kal-toh is a complicated process. Even the most experienced players occasionally induce a collapse. With time and patience, the instabilities can be fortified."

Leonard visibly drooped in relief. "...Okay. Good. That's...that's good. Sorry for freakin' out."

Spock held back the urge to repeat his statement about apologizing; simply gestured for the doctor to place another piece. Leonard's next move was far more successful; after a few more turns, the man even appeared like he might finally relax enough to-

"Ambassador?"

Spock looked up from the game. "Yes?"

"I...I know ya might not be allowed ta tell me..." Leonard fidgeted. "But if you are, I was just wonderin'...um...did anythin' like this ever happen in your timeline?"

...He had been waiting for that question.

"The Leonard McCoy I called a friend endured a number of traumatic events, the spectre of which haunted him for many years," Spock shook his head. "But nothing quite like this. Nothing so...malicious. Or...long-term."

The doctor's eyes developed a watery sheen. "So in your timeline, Khan never kidnapped me?"

"He did not," Spock tilted his head. This was a good moment to transition... "Although we were all captured by Khan and the rest of the Augments for a few hours when they overtook the Enterprise."

Leonard went still. "...When they what?"

At this point, there really was no harm discussing that. It would never happen that way here.

"Approximately six years from now, in my home timeline, the Enterprise will come across the Botany Bay, floating adrift near the edge of Federation space," Spock placed another t'an; the inner latticework began to form. "Khan's cryostasis chamber malfunctioned when our away team beamed aboard, and we were forced to revive him. He attempted to convince us that he and his people were simply explorers who had abandoned a dying Earth in the middle of the Eugenics wars."

"Which is true," Leonard picked up another t'an. "That's why they left."

"Technically, yes...however as Khan's subsequent actions proved, his motivations were not simply by the wellbeing of his people." Unfortunately for everyone. "Khan withheld his identity and identities of everyone in his crew, which might have been an understandable safety measure, had he not used the time his deception bought him to study our ship's schematics, seduce our ship's historian, and convinced her to commit mutiny."

The doctor froze with his hand halfway to placing his t'an; his mouth fell open.

"He...I'm sorry, he _what_?"

"Seduced our ship's historian."

"...And got her ta commit _mutiny_?"

"Yes."

"...Okay." Leonard snorted. "Not gonna lie, I wasn't expectin' _that_."

"Unfortunately, neither were we." Although given McGivers overt affinity to the man, they probably should have kept a closer eye on her. But hindsight could not change the past. "Within mere days of Khan's revival, the historian helped him wake the entire complement of his crew, and beam them to the Enterprise. Under Khan's command, they overtook engineering, sealed off large portions of the ship, and cut off oxygen to the bridge long enough to incapacitate the entire command crew. He likely would have let us all suffocate, however he and his people were not familiar enough with our ship's systems to operate it long-term without us."

"So you're sayin' he used y'all ta keep the Enterprise running?" The doctor set the t'an on the table; leaned in. "Look, no offense, but this doesn't make any sense. Why would he do that? What's the point? If he wanted ta get his people to safety, why would he risk pissin' off the Federation by stealing one of their ships and kidnapping the crew?"

"Khan's intention was not simply to form a new colony for his people," Spock told him. "He wanted us to locate an _existing_ colony. One which was remote; which would not raise alarms when a Federation starship dropped into orbit; which could have its offworld communications jammed before they knew the vessel's true intentions."

"...Right." Leonard swallowed nervously. "And you're sayin' his _'intentions'_ were ta...ta _conquer_ the colony? Ta use it as some kind of...what? A home base? Are you really tryin' ta tell me that after spendin' his whole life at war, Khan was just gonna start another one up again as soon as he woke up?"

"I cannot claim to know his final objective." Although he had a fairly logical hypothesis. "All I know is that when we refused to acquiesce to his demands, he attempted to execute Jim as an example."

Worry flashed through the doctor's eyes. "He...he tried ta kill Kirk?"

"He did," Spock nodded. "And he would have succeeded if our historian had not had a change of heart. She incapacitated the executioner, freed Jim, and helped him retake the ship."

Leonard blinked. "Wait...so you're sayin' she mutinied, then-what?-felt bad 'bout mutinying, and helped undo the mutiny?"

"As implausable as it seems, yes. I believe her conscience would not let her stand by while people died as a result of her actions."

"Well what did she _think_ was gonna happen?" The doctor let out a humorless laugh. "When Khan wants somethin,' he _gets_ it. And if ya stand in his way, he…"

Leonard froze; clenched his jaw; he silently placed his t'an. A little more of the latticework formed.

Spock picked up a t'an; studied current the arrangement. Experience with his own Leonard had taught him that the man would sometimes pause like this. It was not a moment that needed to be interrupted, nor even addressed. The man was simply working something out in his head.

"...So what happened to her?"

Spock looked up from their game. "The historian?"

"No, Joan of Arc," Leonard rolled his eyes. "Of course, the historian. What happened?"

Spock suppressed a wince at the memory.

It was a logical question...however not one the Ambassador liked the answer to.

"You must understand, there are a few moments in my past I wish I could change." Spock began. "Moments where a decision seemed...logical at the time, but hindsight proved it to be disastrous miscalculations. Moments when I should have questioned a man whom I respect more than any other I have ever known...but who was still, in every way...Human."

Leonard's eyes narrowed. "...What did your Kirk do?"

"He made two mistakes." Spock placed his t'an; another part of the structure crumbled. "Captains in my timeline were given a high degree of authority. Perhaps more authority than they should have been given. And the Jim Kirk I knew was a...romantic. He believed in the good of people; in giving people second chances. Even people who had hurt him. So rather than putting the entirety of Augment society on trial for their attack on the Enterprise, he helped the Augments set up a colony on an uninhabited, but seemingly _habitable_ , planet called Ceti Alpha V."

The doctor blinked. "How is that a mistake? That just sounds like a good thing. Like somethin' that shoulda happened _here_ a long time ago."

"...I will come back to that in a moment," Spock said. "The stories intertwine greatly, and it will be easier to focus on one element at a time."

Leonard gave him a nervous look; nodded. "I...guess that's fair. So...the historian-what did ya say her name was again?"

...He knew the man would ask that.

"I did not, and will not, tell you her name," Spock shook his head. "There is no reason to suspect she would ever find herself in a similar position in this timeline, and I do not believe she is even out of the Academy yet. I do not want the actions of another version of herself to tarnish your perception of her, should you ever meet. "

Leonard's mouth formed an 'O;' he nodded. "Yeah...I guess that's fair. Wouldn't wanna screw up some...some _kid's_ future over somethin' she didn't even do."

"I am relieved you understand." _Very_ relieved. "Now to continue: as I said before, my Jim was a romantic. An admirable quality in many circumstances, but one which could become...problematic...quite quickly when that romanticism was projected onto others. And that is what occurred here. Jim did not want to discount the possibility that the historian and Khan might have truly fallen in love...which, in his defense, the historian insisted was the case. So, Jim gave her a choice: she could face court martial for mutiny, or join Khan and the Augments on their new colony. I believe that, even if her feelings for Khan were genuine, Jim had expected the historian to choose the court marshall. She did not."

Leonard stared at him for at least fifteen seconds without speaking or blinking.

"She...She chose ta stay with Khan?" The doctor's voice shook slightly when he asked the question.

"She did," Spock didn't bother to suppress his wince this time. "With barely a moment's hesitation. I cannot claim to know what was happening in her mind. I do not know whether she truly made that choice out of actual love, or if the thought of the humiliation of a court martial terrified her more than the thought of spending her life among strangers...or Khan had already found a way to sway her decision. I have my suspicions...but they are and always have just been suspicions."

"And Kirk _let her go?_ "

"She was adamant that it was what she wanted-"

"But ya said this all happened over a couple days!" Leonard was highly upset. "And she _betrayed_ Khan by helpin' ta save you guys! Do ya have any concept of how pissed he must've been? My God! How could he let her go?"

"As I said, it was a mistake." Spock shook his head. "How terrible a mistake it was, I am still uncertain. Even after her betrayal-perhaps _because_ of her willingness to defy him-the Khan in my reality seem to gain a great deal of respect for her. It is...possible...that they did grow to love each other; that their lives together were-"

"Don't," Leonard cut him off. "Don't pander ta me. You an' I both know the odds of that story havin' a happy ending are pretty much nill. Why the hell didn't you stop it?"

"Because as Captain, it was within Jim's authority," Spock let out a small sigh. "And although he typically listened to both your council and my own...this was not one of those times. And it did not help that Khan's...charisma...was so disarming. Even after they knew who he was, many in the crew still held an odd level of respect for the man. It clouded Jim's judgement, as I believe it also did the historian's. Does that correspond to what you know of the man you spent the past two and a half months with?"

The doctor opened his mouth, clearly intending to protest...then froze; slumped.

"I guess he can have this...magnetism," Leonard muttered. "When things were goin' good, or when he really, really wanted somethin' from me, it was almost...electric. Lookin' at it like that, I...I guess...maybe...I can see how...um...So, if that's only one of Kirk's mistakes, what was the second one?"

"He trusted even more people who did not deserve it." Although in Jim's defense, they _should_ have been trustworthy. "My Jim believed that simply by informing Starfleet Command of the colony's existence, they would take the necessary steps to ensure the colony was looked after; that were any natural disaster to occur on Ceti Alpha V, Starfleet would send relief supplies to the colony; possibly even help them evacuate to a new home, should their world become uninhabitable."

"...Yeah," Leonard nodded nervously. "Just like in the treaty y'all just signed with the Klingons and Augments. It's basic decency."

"...One would think." Spock took a deep breath. "However, there was no such treaty put in place in my timeline. And placing blind trust in Starfleet and the Federation Council to ensure the safety of the colonists was, as as I did not learn for many years...a grave error. Because upon catching wind of the Augments, the Section-31 of my reality immediately claimed jurisdiction over their case, and classified the colony's existence as a matter of Federation security."

The doctor went rigid. "You...Are you sayin' Section-31 overran the colony? That they turned the _entire Augment population_ into their puppets? Is that what you're tellin' me?"

"No, Leonard," Spock shook his head. "In my reality, it took nearly a hundred years before I was able to de-classify _all_ of the files related to the Augment incident, but the reports were clear: Khan's actions upon waking in our century made Section-31 consider the Augments a potential threat to the Federation. Not only because of their abilities, but because of how hostile governments might attempt to _utilize_ those abilities were they to become aware of them. So Section-31's objective-according to their own reports-was to surveil the colony for signs that the Augments might try to leave, and to prevent the knowledge of the existence of living 'super humans' from falling into outside hands. They did not take any steps to harm the colonists, nor interfere with their development...but in that noninterference, they also did not alert Starfleet Command when the colony was put in jeopardy by a natural disaster."

Leonard's brow furrowed with worry. "What do ya mean? What natural disaster?"

"A neighboring planet exploded, and drastically changed Ceti Alpha V's climate," Spock summarized. "And before you ask: I am certain it was a natural event. Nothing I ever found suggested Section-31 was anything but shocked at that turn of events. But even if they did not cause the event...they did nothing to aide the colony's survivors, which is...unforgivable."

The doctor gaped. "Are you tellin' me that your Section-31 just saw a buncha people dyin' from an environmental apocalypse, and all they did was shrug their shoulders an' say: 'well that takes care of that?!'"

"Unfortunately, that is accurate," Spock confirmed. "They seemingly abandoned their observatory near the planet only two months after the explosion. And, as Section-31 had never supplied the Augent colony with the means to send out a distress signal, no one outside that organization discovered the disaster for over fifteen years. At which time the colony's survivors, led by Khan, managed to commandeer a Starfleet vessel, and set in motion a series of events which cost not only their lives, but the lives of many Starfleet officers...including, for a time, my own."

Leonard's eyebrows shot up. "Wait...so you're sayin' you weren't jokin' before? You're really claimin' you've...what? Died, and come back to life? _That's_ what you're expectin' me ta believe?"

"The possibility should not come as a complete shock," Spock replied. "In many ways, the situation was similar to the one in which your Jim found himself in two years ago. You of all people should know that the universal rules surrounding death are not as straightforward as they first appear."

The doctor's jaw dropped. "Are...are you sayin' you have Khan's blood in you? How the hell'd ya even get it? How's it even compatible with your physiology? How-"

"No no," He had explained that poorly. "I did not mean the circumstances of our revival were similar. I meant the means of our deaths. In my timeline, _I_ was the one irradiated while repairing a component of the Enterprise's warp core, while _Jim_ worked to fend off Khan after he attacked our ship in a stolen Starfleet vessel."

It was one of the more...eerie parallels which he had noted between their two realities. The fact that the event had somehow been reversed did not make it any less disturbing.

"...Okay…" Leonard said slowly. "Then-and don't take this the wrong way-how the _hell_ are you alive?"

"That is where it becomes complicated."

"Oh, of _course_ that's where it gets complicated," Leonard rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Look, don't try ta dumb it down for me. I swear, I'm smarter than I look."

Spock gave him a slight frown. "Leonard, I have never doubted your intelligence, in your universe or my own. The full logistics behind my revival are sometimes even difficult for me to comprehend, as are the events which occurred shortly after. If I told the entire story, it would take days, and would potentially jeopardize some elements of your timeline which are still quite malleable."

Leonard's eyes went wide with understanding. "Okay...then what _can_ ya tell me?"

"I can tell you that Khan's final attempt to destroy the Enterprise failed, and took the rest of the surviving Augments with him." It had not needed to end that way...but there was no changing it. Not in his home reality, at least. "But as I said before, the cost of repairing our warp drive in time to escape the explosion was my life. I knew this before I ever entered the chamber. And because of that certainty, I preemptively placed my katra in the mind of my Leonard McCoy."

The look the doctor gave him was...indescribable.

"You're... _katra_?"

"Yes."

"You put your _katra_...in my head?"

"In the mind of my Leonard McCoy, yes. Temporarily."

"I...I didn't realize _katras_ were _real_."

"They are quite real," Spock confirmed. "And in times of emergency, they can be transferred to specially prepared vessels...or to another, compatible, living organism."

"Like me, apparently," Leonard blinked; shook his head. "I mean, _your_ me. I mean...is this a joke? Are you pullin' my leg?"

"I am not."

"But if...if that were true, wouldn't ya know things 'bout me?" Leonard gulped. "Things nobody else...if what you're sayin's true, then...then how'd my...my mom die?"

Spock tilted his head.

...That had not happened. Just that morning, Jim had mentioned informing Leonard's mother that he was coming home. She had apparently been overjoyed.

"In my reality at this point in time, your mother is still alive," the Ambassador replied. "Your father, on the other hand, died approximately seven years ago of a rare disease contracted during a medical conference. If the events surrounding that illness parallel what happened in my timeline, then your David McCoy spent months wasting away on life support...until he requested you end his pain."

The doctor went pale. "I...I don't know what you're talkin' about."

...Yes he did.

"He would not have survived long enough for the cure, Leonard. Every minute of his life was pure agony. And in your timeline, quality of life laws made his consenting decision perfectly legal. I know it must still be painful to you: my Leonard McCoy refused to tell his best friends about it even _decades_ after it occurred, because his grief and guilt were so great. But you should know that your Jim and Spock will not judge you harshly were they to be made aware-"

"Please don't tell 'em," Leonard whispered.

"I have no intention of doing so," Spock assured him. "But do you now believe I am telling the truth?"

"...Yeah," Leonard gupled. "I do. Ya...ya've been in my head. _Literally_."

...The man appeared greatly disturbed. He should have anticipated...

"I apologize if my revelation was out of line. If you would prefer I go-"

"No," Leonard drew an uneven breath; shook his head. "I...um...if ya leave now, then Kat...Doctor Cornwell's gonna come in here, an' see me freakin' out, and...This ain't somethin' I wanna explain. So just...finish your story. Please. Your _katra_ was in my...in your Leonard McCoy's head. And then..."

...Was it truly a wise decision to continue?

...It was what the man wanted.

"My _katra_ was in Leonard McCoy's mind," Spock confirmed. "My goal at that time was simply to have him bring my _katra_ back to Vulcan, where it would be preserved. With that goal seemingly complete, I entered the reactor chamber, and simultaneously saved the Enterprise while sealing my fate. I did not anticipate the long...long series of events which followed. Most of which I was...incapacitated for, and cannot supply first-hand details of. But in summary, the planetoid which my body was buried upon apparently contained...unique characteristics, which regenerated my body. My _katra_ -less body was eventually discovered roaming that planetoid. Jim, Leonard, and a few of my other dear friends recovered me, and my katra was removed from Leonard's mind; placed back inside my own. And then we continued on with our lives."

The doctor stared at him, clearly waiting for him to continue. "...Don't tell me that's the end of the story?"

"Of what I can safely tell you of those events without potentially creating self-fulfilling prophecies...yes."

"Well Christ!" Leonard exclaimed. "What am I supposed ta do with that?"

"You do not have to do anything with the information just yet," Spock told him. "I know it is a lot to process. My hope is that, eventually, it will help you-"

"Yeah, you said that." Leonard snapped; grimaced; shook his head. "I-I'm sorry. I said I'd listen, and I...I actually do believe a lot of what you said. Like it or not...it fits. But it's just...people keep tellin' me I shouldn't take Khan's word fer all the crap that's happened in the past couple months, then they turn right 'round and say I should trust _them_ instead? _Seriously_? Just like _that_? And I swear, I'm tryin' ta keep an open mind...But I'm not just goin' off things Khan _said_ Kirk and Spock and-and the entire damn Federation-did, ya know? It's the stuff Kirk's _confessed_ to. Stuff that when I asked him, point blank 'bout...he claimed _'wasn't that simple.'_ How could...how could somethin' like...like _that_ not be simple? Either he did it, or he didn't, right?"

...The man was venting. And clearly still very, very confused. Which was...more than understandable.

"Few things are ever as simple as they first appear," No longer certain whose turn it actually was, Spock placed another t'an; part of the structure which had looked like it belonged to the outer latticework rearranged itself into a perfect cube. "And as I hope my depiction of my Enterprise's interactions with Khan have shown you, it is highly likely that also applies in this case."

"...Maybe." Leonard took a deep breath in; let it out. "But Hell, it's just so...so damn _hard_ ta tell what's _real_. I know if I try ta look up any incident reports, they could be fake. And CGI 'recordings' could even make it look like Khan, or Kirk, or _anybody_ , acted like Starfleet claims they did, and I wouldn't be able ta tell the difference. How am I supposed ta figure this out? How am I…"

The doctor trailed off; his eyes went impressively wide.

"...Holy shit."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Leonard?"

"It's just…" Leonard hesitated. "Yesterday, Scotty-Montgomery Scott, our Chief Engineer-paid me a visit. And we got arguin' 'bout...pretty much this exact same thing. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Scotty said something about wishin' he had a magic mirror so I could see what really happened. So I could know if...if the people I use ta call my best friends had done the things Khan'd said they did. And I know that's not possible, but I...I think the only _real_ records-the only ones I can trust ta not be doctored all ta hell-are...well...memories. People's _real_ _memories_ of what happened. And 'fore now, I didn't even think of it bein' possible to...Look, I know magic mirrors don't exist, but Vulcan mind melds seem pretty damn close. And this is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done, but I think I'm gonna lose it if I can't figure out what really happened out here. So I...I was wonderin' if...um...if you might be able to…"

The doctor stopped; winced; bit his lip.

Spock waited for him to continue. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed; Spock was relieved that Leonard appeared to have come to the possibility on his own.

"Is...is there some way you can...get Kirk and Spock to let you meld with them?" Leonard finally asked. "Then meld with me, and show me what you saw? I know it's a lot ta ask, and obviously I don't want ya ta do it if they say no, but minus a magic mirror, it's 'bout the closest thing I can think of ta-"

"Yes."

The doctor blinked. "...Really? Just like that? Don't ya wanna think 'bout it for a bit?"

"I said I was here to provide context," Spock reminded him. "And you are correct: a meld is the simplest way I can do so. It is much faster than regaling you with stories of my youth. And you should know that both your Jim and my counterpart have already agreed to participate, in the event you decided that was what you wanted. Your Spock actually proposed performing the meld himself...however I convinced him that not only do I have had far more experience performing melds than my young counterpart, at the moment you are unlikely to trust his efforts."

"Damn straight," Leonard huffed; winced. "...So they already know?

"I would not agree to perform a meld without the informed consent of everyone involved," Spock confirmed. "However, I suggest we use a form of meld which is less...traditional than those with which you are familiar."

Leonard's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'less traditional?'"

"It is a form of mind meld which does not necessitate physical contact," Spock explained. "I learned of its existence many years ago, but the...circumstances...surrounding that discovery made me wary of attempting it for decades."

The doctor began to tense. "...If it's dangerous, then why are you suggesting it?"

"The process is not dangerous, Leonard." Although he had incorrectly thought so for a long time. "When I first saw the technique performed, it was done by a Vulcan with ulterior motives. One whom I now realize used the process to distract his victim's conscious mind, while he planted suggestions in their subconscious."

"...You're not sellin' this very well."

That was because the full context of that situation was difficult to explain, and he did not want to become sidetracked explaining _yet another_ sibling.

"I suppose not," Spock admitted. "Allow me to make the distinction between what I am proposing, and what the Vulcan I mentioned clear. In his approach, the Vulcan forced his victims to relive traumatic moments in first-person; going so far as to mentally project an image of those traumatic moments upon everyone in the vicinity. He claimed it was a way to 'heal' them of their emotional pain, which might have been true to an extent...however, his invasive methods were unnecessary for that purpose. Analysis of one's memories through a meld does not have to be first-person experience. There is not even a need to relive the emotions involved. No need to force all of one's conscious mental energy on the event. With an experienced initiator, the memories can simply be...watched. As if those participating were simply viewing a film. If someone wanted to stop, I would end the meld, and the memory projection would vanish. That is the type of meld I am proposing, and there is nothing dangerous in that."

Leonard narrowed his eyes. "And how exactly did you figure all this out?"

"By necessity," Spock said. "I have lived a long life, and my unfortunate first encounter with this technique happened when I was still relatively young. In subsequent years, I began to wonder if the technique could truly be used as a real form of therapy, but I never dared attempt it out of fear that I was wrong. But after Nero's attack, many Vulcans were...emotionally shattered...with survivor's guilt. After some soul-searching, I decided to revisit the concept. And it was successful. Highly successful. There is a small group of healers on New Vulcan who are now using this technique every day. There have been a couple papers written about it, if you would like to study the logistics behind the technique yourself."

The doctor grimaced. "...Does it have ta be this complicated? Couldn't ya just do a normal meld?"

"I can," Spock confirmed. "However, a tactile mind meld makes it nearly impossible to separate the emotions of a memory from the memory itself. Which, given the nature of the memories we would need to unearth, is the main reason I proposed my alternative method...But in either case, before you come to a decision, you should know that for _any_ type of meld to be successful, and to avoid the potential for psychological damage, all participants have to willingly let me into their minds. If that is something you cannot or will not do, then I am afraid no form of mind meld is safe to attempt. Do you understand?"

...Another bout of silence.

Leonard stared at their game of kal-toh; after a few moments, he picked up a t'an; studied it.

"...And you said J...Kirk and Spock...they've already agreed ta all this melding crap?"

"They have," Spock said cautiously. "But they too can withdraw consent for the meld at any time. It is the only way something this intricate can be accomplished safely."

"I get that," the doctor didn't look up from his t'an. "...If I said yes, how soon could we get started?"

...He was considering it. Spock might actually be able to help him...

"They told me they would only need an hour's notice, if you agree. That would also give me time to meditate, and mentally prepare for my role in the meld. Does this mean you still want to do this?"

"...Well, I'm not sure if I'll be more or less nervous 'bout it in an hour," Leonard gulped; took a deep breath; placed the t'an. Half the structure arranged itself. "But there's stuff I need ta know, and this is 'bout my only shot. So...send for 'em. We're doing this."


End file.
